I Will Follow You Into the Dark
by Valtiel Valentine
Summary: They were Yin and Yang, ice and fire, heaven and hell. The devil and the angel on his shoulders. And Leon Kennedy loved them both. A sweeping look back at the history between three of your Resident Evil Favorites. What happened when the story wasn't being told, and how did it end for them? We skip to the future to look back in time. A journey of love, loss, hope and regret.
1. Prologue

**Authors Note:** I don't normally write more than one story at a time, but this has been itching to come out. So I thought I'd get it underway. I've received quite a few messages asking for stories dedicated to both a Leon/Ada pairing and a Claire/Leon pairing. I couldn't decide which I'd rather focus on first. Then, I heard a song called 'Supercut' by Lorde and suddenly - this idea was born. Hello, I am here to tear out your heart. But I hope you enjoy. Mush, laughter, violence, love, lust and heartbreak ahead. You know the drill. You might recognize a couple of elements from my other stories in here, because I enjoy the history, but this isn't related to them. Take another journey with me.

And listen to that song, because its everything.

* * *

 **In my head, I play a supercut of us - All the magic we gave off - All the love we had and lost - And in my head - The visions never stop - These ribbons wrap me up - But when I reach for you - There's just a supercut**

 **In your car, the radio up - We keep trying to talk about us - I'm someone you maybe might love - I'll be your quiet afternoon crush - Be your violent overnight rush - Make you crazy over my touch**

 **Cause in my head - in my head, I do everything right**  
 **When you call - when you call, I'll forgive and not fight**  
 **Because ours - are the moments I play in the dark**  
 **We were wild and fluorescent, come home to my heart**

 **In my head, I do everything right**

* * *

There were three great loves in the life of Leon Kennedy. Three. Two of them under this very roof, under his guard, under his ever watchful eye. He cared for them with everything he was, they were his life, his pride and his joy. After all the years of fighting – well over twenty – all the years of blood, sweat and tears. Of tearing his body to pieces to protect a world and a country he believed worth fighting for, he had finally settled down. Because of her.

Women were his Achilles heel and always had been. If you knew of him, you knew the gossip and the stories that surrounded him. The notorious womanizer, the one nobody could ever pin down. Suave, sweet, heroic. The kind of guy most girls dreamed about on paper, but when you got close to him the reality was he was unreachable - to most. Scared to death of ever giving up his heart because doing that meant ties and ties in their world got you hurt or killed. He'd avoided them, avoided true relationships, avoided allowing himself the comfort of love when sometimes he'd needed it more than anything.

There were only two that ever made him believe that maybe – just maybe – there could be a life beyond the battle. Beyond duty.

Claire Redfield. The redheaded beauty he had seen through his first apocalypse with.

Ada Wong. The mystery, the battle angel that showed up to save him and entice him.

Two vastly different women. One represented peace and calm, a guiding light in the dark. His anchor in a rocky, always turbulent sea. The other was fire and danger, passion and desire. A mystery, out of reach. Harley to his Joker. They were Yin and Yang, ice and fire, heaven and hell. The devil and the angel on his shoulders. And he loved them both – if he was honest with himself, he always had. For many different reasons, for a lot of the same ones.

He'd made a lot of mistakes over the last twenty something years – with both of them. There were times when he could have sworn one of them was the woman he was meant to be with forever, but then the other had swept in and changed everything again. There had been broken hearts, an ocean of tears, a long and rocky road to get here. But here he was, leaning in the door frame of the bedroom of the third love of his life. The girl that stole his heart so completely it sometimes overwhelmed him. He never knew it was possible to love someone so unconditionally and entirely that you'd burn the world down just for them, happily walk in to fire if it meant they'd be okay. She was his heart. She had every bit of it wrapped around her little finger.

His daughter. Lily Rose.

Five years old, smart as a whip. The cutest little bean he knew, but stubborn and passionate about everything even at such a tender age – mostly about ducks, she loved ducks the most. She could tell him the sky was green and he'd agree, if it made her smile. She had been the one, the one to finally settle the warrior. To tame him and bring him home. He'd give her the world on a silver plate if she asked for it.

"Alright, but Mr Ducks pretty tired, you should probably both go to bed." He muses, arms folded, as his little angel tries to avoid bed time. Mr Duck was a big cuddly soft toy that was almost the same size as she was, a Christmas gift a year ago from a certain Jill Valentine. It had started the duck obsession, now everything was ducks, from wallpaper to the print on her pajamas. Mr Duck liked to stay up late – Leon declared him a bad influence.

"He is not tired." His daughter pouts her argument.

"He is, he told me." Leon persists, a smile on his face.

"When?" She challenges.

"When you were in the bath.." he pushes away from the door and comes in to the room, re-enacting his conversation with the duck, exactly how it went. A big yawn, stretching his arms, so tired. She looks dubious. "C'mon, Lily-Bean." He chuckles, leaning down and scooping her up. She whines and he grabs Mr Duck too, one in each arm, he settles them down in her bed.

Lily yawns, clutching her cuddly friend, as he tucks them both in. "Told you you were tired." He says softly, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

"Am not." More protests.

"Goodnight, sweetpea." He smiles softly, reaching over and switching on her duck themed nightlight, then getting back to his feet. He heads for the door and switches off the main light.

"Daddy.."

"Hm?" He looks back at her, holding the door in his hand.

"Does Mommy talk to you, in your dreams?"

He blinks, gazing back at her. A smile drifts across his face and he nods slightly. "Sometimes."

His little girl smiles back, clutching her duck. "Me too."

Kids. They could reach in to your heart and squeeze it, that was for sure.

"I miss her." Lily sighs.

He moves back to her side, kneeling down and resting his chin on his forearm, his other hand comes up and gently boops her nose. "Me too." He answers in kind. "But at least we get to see her when we go to sleep, right?" He says softly.

Lily nods.

"She loves you so much," he whispers, "so do I."

Her smile. He lived for that smile, and those three words she returns to him.

He places another kiss on her forehead and with a little ruffle of her hair, he gets up. Pulling the door up but not closing it completely, he takes a moment. Resting his hands on the rail of the landing walkway, lost in thought. It never got any easier, and one day she'd want answers he wouldn't know how to give. For now, she knew her Mommy was a hero, and an angel – watching over her forever.

"Everything okay?" His wife, the second love of his life emerges from their bedroom and comes over to him, resting her hand on his back.

"Yeah.." he sighs, giving her a smile and leaning in to kiss her. As he does, his hands slip around her waist and smooth over the rounded bump in her belly. She was seven months pregnant – the forth love of his life on his or her way soon. They'd decided not to find out what they were having ahead of time, there were precious few good surprises in the world. Why spoil one when you had the chance? "Just.. missing her Mom." He says quietly when their kiss breaks.

She understood. They might have been rivals. But she understood. She'd been there too – when it happened. His final mission, the last time he'd stepped foot in to a horror show doubling as a battle field. The day everything in his world changed for better and for worse. He lost the first love of his life, but he discovered he was a father. It was a day he would never, ever forget. Every second of it burned in to his memory, equal parts heartache and hope.

And unwavering, she'd stood by his side through it all. Through grief, through learning, through becoming the man he was now.

Claire Redfield and Ada Wong. The two women that had his heart – had fought over it, soothed it, fired it up, just plain stolen it.

If only he could have saved them both.


	2. A Lucky Day in Hell

**Authors Note:** Tweaking a couple of historical facts to my liking, but only minor stuff. Don't pelt me with fruit. We're starting at the beginning!

P.S. When it says 'Present Day' it means his present. This is set a couple of years from now at least.

* * *

 **Then I crashed into you**  
 **And I went up in flames**  
 **Could've been the death of me**  
 **But then you breathed your breath in me**  
 **Then I crashed into you**  
 **Like a runaway train**  
 **You will consume me**  
 **But I can't walk away**

 **\- Daughtry**

* * *

 **October 1st, 1998**

 **2am**

His hands wouldn't stop shaking. He couldn't control it. Leon sat on the edge of the bed in an unfamiliar room and held them out in front of him, watching his usually steady as a rock fingers tremor away. No matter how hard he tried to focus, it just wouldn't stop. All these hours later, the adrenaline was still having an effect on his body – and the events of the past 48 hours were taking their toll on his mind. He hadn't slept since he woke up on Tuesday afternoon, a mere day late for his first day at his new job. His close, personal relationship with alcohol had been screwing him since the death of his big brother six years ago. He was a young man that coped with things the same way his father did. Drowned them at the bottom of a bottle. Breaking up with his girlfriend had been a superb catalyst for some of that self destructive behavior.

Weirdly, it seemed like getting blackout drunk and mourning the end of a relationship with the first girl he ever loved had saved his life. He owed her a thankyou – maybe? This was without a doubt the most fucked up few days he'd ever been a part of, and he'd been through some shit while at the academy. Now, he was sat in some Government building after spending the last few hours surrounded by suits barraging him with questions about what had happened in Raccoon City while sat in front of a video camera. Wanting to know what he knew about Umbrella and their demented bullshit. He'd answered their questions the best he could. They'd taken Sherry and coldly informed him she was under their care now – then they'd told him if he wanted things to end peacefully, he had the experience they were looking for and that he should work for them. He knew a threat when he heard one, however politely it was put, and now he was doing a whole lot of not sleeping in this unfamiliar room. Apparently it was his 'one choice'.

He wanted to go home. Not just back to the dingy apartment he'd left behind, but home home. Back to his parents place in Fort Collins, Colorado. Being 21 and graduating the top of his class in the Academy didn't mean shit when you'd spent twenty something hours looking true horror in the eye and fighting for your life.

But somehow he felt like now, nothing would ever be the same again. His life had changed completely, it was in the process of changing more. These people weren't letting him go, he was not a free man. He was not in control.. and THAT was why his hands were shaking.

He was exhausted. He was shattered. He was angry. Afraid? Sure. He'd just discovered there was evil in the world beyond what he could have imagined. He'd fought off reanimated corpses for fucks sakes. Actual dead people, walking around like living people. Homicidal living people, that wanted to eat his face, and anything else they could get hold of. It wasn't a movie or some video game, it was actual – stinking – rotting – reality. He had a feeling without the aid of alcohol, he might not be sleeping for a while. Who could sleep when all that was out there?

He gets to his feet, clenching his hands in to fists and then flexing them over and over as he begins to pace the room. It was like an overly neat hotel room, with a regular bed, white furniture, white everything. Maybe more like a hospital. Was he in a hospital? He was fairly sure he wasn't. They'd stuck needles in him and taken blood and screened him for all kinds of things and declared him healthy, but this wasn't a hospital. Was it a prison? The fact they barely gave him any information on what they were doing or where he was got under his skin too. They had more questions, they needed to monitor him. Other people needed to speak to him. Be a good boy, a good officer, work for us, sit, roll over.

He refused to play dead.

He runs his hands through his hair and then takes it in fistfuls between his fingers, scrunching his eyes shut. He could still hear their groans, and smell them as they lunged for him. Could feel their sticky hands grab him – the skin was rotting, so it had a glue like texture when they got their hands on you. Another feeling he'd never forget.

His uniform had been covered in blood and other disgusting gunk, so they'd taken it from him. He didn't know if it would be burned or returned to him or what. They'd given him basic sweatpants and a tank top, both in a dull, prison issue grey. He'd spent about an hour in the shower, scrubbing every inch of his skin and still not feeling clean.

No matter how hard he pressed the heels of his palms in to his eyes, he still saw their faces. Torn, teeth showing, eyes hollow and empty. The reeking breath, so disfigured. Some of them burned, some of them mangled, some of them with clumps of hair torn out leaving skinless patches in their scalps. He could only assume because they'd attacked someone and that someone had tried to pull them away by their hair. The dead didn't hold on to skin too well, it came away with ease. It was hard to wrestle a zombie.

A motherfucking zombie. These things were fucking real.

He gives up pacing and falls back against the wall of the small room, sliding down it and drawing his knees up in to himself, he wraps his arms around them and buries his face between them. He wanted to go back. Go back to a handful of days ago. When he'd been looking forward to starting his job, when he had plans on becoming the best murder detective in the world. Becoming a swift hand of justice for those that had experienced injustice. When he'd still been in love, when his girlfriend still wanted him – or at least, had been pretending to. He wondered how long she'd known she wanted to end it. Was him leaving for Raccoon City just an excuse?

Weren't they happy?

He was going to ask her to marry him. He had a ring and everything. He supposed it was dumb to think that the first woman you fell in love with would be the one you'd marry, but some part of him was an old romantic, he supposed. Had his head in the clouds – visions of being a world famous Police Detective and the greatest husband and father that ever lived. Leon S Kennedy, Captain High Hopes. He'd had them all.

So much for that.

He lets out a small laugh at that thought. Lifting his head again his mop of hair falls in to his eyes and he glances around this prison cell bedroom hospital whateverthefuck. Could they hear him? See him? Were they monitoring him right now?

"Hey!" He calls out. No longer caring if there were other people around that he might wake up. "I don't even get a TV? I can't sleep for shit." He raises his voice. "How about some vodka? Some fucking.. ice cream.. pizza.. porn?" he laughs to himself and lifts his hand, chewing on his thumb nail. An old, very bad habit. "Just survived the apocalypse, least you can do is give me a drink and something to jerk off to." He mutters.

Nothing.

He sighs, examining the last of the nail he'd bitten away and then simply lying down right there on the floor, drawing one knee up, letting the other lie flat. He rests his hands over his stomach and just stares at the ceiling.

He wonders how she's doing. If she got away, if she was headed to Europe to find her brother. Or if these Government types had swept her up too. Claire Redfield. 19, a fiery redhead that was all attitude and sweetness wrapped up in a deadly little package. He'd never seen a girl handle a gun or a knife like that, it was pretty hot. Then again he was 21 years old, male, and coming off of a break up. Falling masonry made him hard – so a beautiful redhead? Yeah, she caught his attention even in the middle of the end of the world. Or, what had felt like it. He'd met two amazing women that day, something beautiful amidst all the horror. One of them, he'd failed miserably.

Ada Wong was dead because of him. At least, that was how his brain was spinning it. She'd saved his life and he hadn't been able to save hers. She'd patched up the bullet wound that throbbed in his shoulder right now, kept him going. The bullet he'd taken to save her life – what a big failure that had ended up being. He'd never be able to repay the debt he owed Ada, she saved them all. She died a hero of Raccoon City. To him, anyway.

Weirdly, the Government didn't seem to think of her the same way. But they hadn't told him why, they'd just hissed at the mention of her name.

Something about their reaction had slowed up his want to co-operate. He'd told them nothing about Claire. A strange need to protect her welling up inside him. These fuckwits in their suits would never know the nightmare he and those two women went through, getting Sherry Birkin out of that hellhole. They could sit and spin. He wasn't selling Claire out by telling them where she'd told him she intended to go. He just hoped they hadn't caught up to her anyway. That she'd find her brother. Maybe some day he'd see her again – somewhere - maybe over the rainbow.

He closes his eyes, humming 'somewhere over the rainbow' to himself. It was soothing. He falls asleep right there on the floor.

When he woke up, it was in to a brand new life. A new world.

A contract. Training. USSTRATCOM based out of Nebraska. They were just lucky he wanted Umbrella taken down as much as they did – he and the Government would forever have a shaky alliance. They were the good guys, but he knew full well if he'd declined their oh so generous 'offers'.. he'd probably be a dead man.

That wasn't to say he didn't go on to serve four United States Presidents directly, over the course of his career. Men that were good, that he had been loyal to. But he knew – from day one – that you couldn't trust everybody just because they worked for the right side. It was a lesson life would kick him with repeatedly. Rely on nobody but yourself.

Maybe that was why he'd never been able to love them. Not like he should have. Maybe if he had, he could have saved them both. Maybe they'd never have ended up in that place. Maybe he could have stopped it all. Maybe she'd still be alive.

* * *

 **Present Day**

Leon tugs down a stack of clothes from a high up shelf in the walk in wardrobe of their Castle Rock, Colorado home. He'd lived all over the country, serving out of one state or another for various reasons, with various divisions within the Government. But Colorado was his roots – his true home. Once he'd retired, he'd returned there. Buying this house for he and his new daughter. It had four bedrooms and one spare room they intended on turning in to some kind of play room at some point – once the new baby arrived. A spacious yard that looked out over snow capped mountains. The town was a short drive away, but its placement was strategic. Headed in to the hills, he'd gotten it because if there was an attack on a major city, the outskirts were usually left in tact. Here, there was an easy route out and likely they'd be protected anyway.

It scared his wife that he thought like that. That that had been his main consideration when buying the place. But there it was, that was what 25 years fighting terrorists did to you. Everything became about strategy and survival. Even now, he was never entirely relaxed. There were guns in strategic places around the house. Just in case. Of course, nowhere his daughter could reach.

With the bundle of clothes moved, he reaches for a box that had sat behind them. Tugging it out and drawing it down, he carries it over to the bed. Setting it down, he lifts off the lid and smiles a little. He didn't have a whole lot of memories down in photo form, but the few he did, he held on to. After she died, he'd had some printed out from his phone. Funnily enough, he wasn't big on selfies. Leon Kennedy was not a big social media fan or selfie taker, you wouldn't find him on Instagram. But now and then.

He leafs through a few of the printed memories, then plucks one out, bringing it closer and gazing at it. He remembered the day. Remembered the sand under his feet and the smell of the sea air. A rare vacation, to recharge from the latest mission. She'd met him there. They'd made love on the beach by moonlight – they'd fucked in the restroom of a bar. But this picture, taken under a coconut tree by a parrot that kept wolf whistling at them. It's silly, and funny, he's pulling a ridiculous face and she looks beautiful. He puts the lid back on the box and returns it to its place in the wardrobe. But he takes that photo downstairs. Finding his baby girl out in the back yard, blowing bubbles for their dog. An Irish Setter named Red.

Sense the theme of his life.

"Hey Lily-Bean.." he calls out to her, setting foot on to the deck and moving to sit on its wooden steps that led down on to the grass. "C'mere little-bit." He beckons her over and she blows another lot of bubbles for Red, who barks and tries to woof them out of the air, then she comes running over as fast as her little legs could carry her. A big smile spreads across his face – he adored her so utterly. She was the cutest thing on earth.

"Daddy!" she springs in to his lap and he makes an overblown 'ooft' sound in response. Kissing the side of her head.

"Been busy?" He asks her.

"Red likes bubbles." She answers, nodding.

"He likes most things. Everything's food." He chuckles. "Look what I found."

He lowers the photograph for her to see. They had a few pictures of her Mother in her room – but for obvious reasons, they didn't keep too many around the house. But he never wanted his little girl to feel like she couldn't talk about her, or see pictures of her.

"Mommy!" She sounded so happy to see the picture, taking it from his hands.

"Yeah, I don't have many, buuuut I thought.. maybe.. we could go in to town, find a pretty photo album, and we could put a book of the ones I do have together?" He suggests, bouncing her on his knee a bit.

Lily gazes at the picture, her initial big smile fading. He closes his eyes, kissing the side of her head again. He wished he could take that heartache away. Wished it more than anything. "I'm sorry you miss her baby girl, so do I." He whispers.

"I like this picture." She says after a while.

"Me too." He nods, pointing out the parrot, "that parrot could talk. He was whistling at us. So we pulled some silly faces."

"Was this before me?"

"Yes, sweetpea. Though... you came along about nine months later." He chuckles. If his math was right, with the information he had to go on, she'd been conceived on that holiday.

"Mommy looks happy."

"She was. We both were."

For a while.

"I'd like to make the book." Lily nods eventually.

"Then we will." He agrees.

Lily turns her head and kisses his cheek in return. He gives her a squeeze. The pair of them gazing at the photo.

Memories. You had to hold on to them with everything you had.

* * *

 **December 1st, 1998**

He was picking up the training in the same manner a fish figured out how to breathe under water. It was natural. When he'd been in the Police Academy, he'd been top of the class. The highest test scores in every field, an absolute crack shot with a gun. Now, he was a full month in to his USSTRATCOM Training in Nebraska, and he was excelling. Despite the less than pleasant means that brought him here, despite his misgivings about the intentions of the people behind the fancy suits of Government – he felt like he was home. Like this was something he was simply born to do.

His favorite weapon? The Heckler & Koch SL8 – A Semi Automatic Sniper Rifle. He could shoot shit all damn day long with that thing. His hand steady as a rock, his eye perfect. Point out a target, it was as good as dead. Some part of him was itching to be sent out into the field to actually put what he was learning to use. He was promised it wouldn't be that long.

You also didn't want to take him on in a knife fight. You'd lose.

He dedicated every hour he wasn't sleeping, to training. If he wasn't weapons training, he was honing his body in to a finely tuned weapon also. He ran circuits of the base for fun, and threw in a strict regiment of cardio and flexibility training daily. He took on Tae Kwon Do and his taste for martial arts just grew daily, he wanted to learn it all. He'd become a sponge for learning – after all, if he couldn't have a life, if he wasn't getting married, if he wasn't doing any of the things he'd planned on doing – then he was going to kick the shit out of something.

Preferably Umbrella.

He hadn't heard from Claire since Raccoon City. Which is why the email sitting in his inbox on an idle Tuesday takes him by surprise. For openers – how had she gotten it? He didn't even have an email address when they met, he'd opened this one on a bored evening hunkered down in his shared apartment. The illusion of free will around this place was pretty convincing – the various recruits got to come and go as they pleased on their own time, it almost seemed like you were living in a town. But it was all under the roof of the Government, really. They were all it's puppets. For now at least.

So how had she found it?

He clicks his tongue in his mouth, bringing up the message and glancing over his shoulder to see if his roommate was around. Then he returns his attention to the note.

" _Hey Leon. Long time no speak! Just wanted to let you know I made it to Europe finally, thanks for keeping your word. I hope you're doing okay, I found your email on a google search. Hope that's not too weird and creepy. Let me know how things are. I still think about that day a lot.. hard to shake, huh._

 _I sound like a weirdo. Take care_

 _Claire xxxx"_

Leon stares at the bunch of x's, then quietly laughs to himself. "Women."

Replying, he tells her to take care too and that he hopes she located Chris soon. Assuring her he sounded like a dude that could take care of himself and he'd likely be just fine. He sends it off, then sits for a while, pondering the miracles of technology. The world was getting weird, fast. But it was nice to hear from her, at least the kid was doing okay out there, she'd gotten away. Hadn't been roped in to some Government, military bullshit like he had.

He doesn't give it too much more thought, and sets about drinking himself to sleep. Old habits, they died the hardest.

He doesn't hear from her again for another week.

When he does, it's a desperate plea for help. Umbrella had caught Claire Redfield and taken her to some Island. She needed him to find Chris. She needed his help.

Operation Find Chris Redfield – the first time Leon S Kennedy put the full force of his training in to action.

He'd been chasing red ever since.


	3. Sanctuary

**Authors Note:** This - Song. If you want the tone. That is all.

* * *

 **It's dark in here, visions are flashing into my head**  
 **as I reminisce - my reoccurring dreams. And you said**  
 **"I'm falling, falling for you babe**  
 **my feelings are getting stronger"**  
 **So why don't you stay with me for a little longer...**

 **\- Imogen Heap, "Come here Boy"**

* * *

 **February 20th, 1999**

He bides his time in shadow, hidden from sight. The comforting weight of his sniper rifle steady in his hand. His sights set on a single spot. He could do this for hours and not get bored, it was like the thrill of the hunt except you weren't tracking a poor defenceless animal, you were waiting to pick off some scumbag that only lived to make the world a worse place.

There's chatter in his ear, the rest of his team in their positions and shooting the shit as the boys tended to do. Ribbing one another in whispers as they waited for their targets. This was nothing short of an ambush, plain and simple. They were cutting off the head of Medusa before she realized they were there and could turn them to stone. Not literally, of course, but metaphors and code names were all the rage in the Bio Terror world. In this instance, a rising organization in Mexico – a cartel making their transition from drug dealing and beheading, to dealing in biological warfare. It was a bold step to make, usually criminals stayed within their own niche areas. But the times were changing, the millennium was on their doorstep. Everybody, everywhere, was stepping up their game. There was a lot of money in terrorism, and these guys wanted a slice of that particular poisoned pie.

Their intel was good, the head of the Cartel en route to their location. There was a deal happening, a deal intercepted by the US Government – it wasn't a good day to be a bad guy. This was Leon Kennedy's second official field mission, and he already had the reputation as the best sniper outside of the US Marines. It was a reputation he intended to hold on to. He was the talk of the base. Training wheels officially off, but he still showed up every day to continue honing his skills. To say it had become his life was an understatement. A little over four months, they'd taken a rookie cop and turned him into a war machine.

After this, he was returning to Nebraska and heading in to his first week off since Raccoon City. He was headed back to Colorado, to see his Father. Then? Probably hit a bar or ten, and if at all possible, get laid. The only thing he'd missed in all of this had been women. The ex that had dumped him prior to Raccoon City was a distant memory. Which reminded him, he still needed to pawn that ring.

He adjusts the grip on his rifle and whistles into the comms, silencing his team. The Cartel was almost here. He could see the dust kicking up on the road in to the abandoned mining town. A great, deserted place for shady people to do business – it provided some great cover areas for an ambush, also. People like this just didn't expect anybody to get in their way.

Fairly soon, the sun glints off of the shiny SUV's and dust swirls into the air as three vehicles pull up. Leon finds the head of the Cartel easily – she wore a red pant suit with hair tied back in a severe black ponytail. Why was it always red? She stays put, while her legion of goons get out of the cars carrying their guns. One holds a metal briefcase and adjusts the buttons on his way too expensive blazer.

"Count."

"Twelve."

"I got Medusa." Leon murmurs. That wasn't her name, but it was her code name. A vicious bitch, feared and respected. In the world of cartels, anyway. To him? She was just a head in his crosshairs.

He fires the first shot through the sun roof of the SUV at an almost impossible angle and blood and brain splatter the back seat and window as Medusa's beheaded. In a flurry of shots, the Cartel goes down one by one. Some take cover and begin firing back, avoiding shots. Prompting his team to switch weapons and take to the ground. Leon stays where he is, idly chewing gum, focused. He hums 'Somewhere over the rainbow' and waits.

For the perfect..

..Shot.

The final two Cartel Henchmen lose their heads in tandem, a two for one special right between the eyes. A smirk fleets across Leon's face and he pulls back, getting from his stomach to his knees and confirming all targets are down with the team and then with their mission handler.

"Clean up on aisle twelve.." One of his team adds, making them laugh as they get their shit together and leave their positions. Rifle over his shoulder, he grabs a small case and leaves the dusty, decaying church roof cover. Crossing rotting floor boards on light feet, jumping down through a gap on to a crate, then out of the church and into the scorching Mexico sun. Outside is a bloodbath. Leon focuses on the silver briefcase one of the henchmen had been carrying. Lifting it up on to a car hood and picking the locks easily, he opens it up to find six vials and an injector. "This is it." He nods, touching his ear piece and letting command know they had what they needed.

"Good job, Kennedy."

"The other team get the buyers?" He asks.

"Affirmative, that is one dead deal."

He clicks his gum in his mouth and nods, shutting the case. "Time to pack this up, boys. Beers on me." Leon motions to his team. The clean up wasn't their problem. They retreat across the desert to the waiting chopper. Done and done. Another platinum job for the rising star of USSTRATCOM.

Beers with his team turn in to shots. Shots turn in to some seriously rowdy soldiers. Drunk, rowdy soldiers end up in the worlds worst hangover on his first day off in four months. He drags himself out of bed and in to the shower, where he stands and makes strange groaning sounds for a good five minutes before actually washing anything. He had a flight to make, last night was a mistake.

It feels a little strange to dress in normal clothes. Jeans and a leather jacket and T Shirt. He packs up a few clothes and things he'd amassed since arriving in Nebraska – he'd arrived there empty handed after all. He'd had to build a new life from the ground up in the aftermath of Raccoon City. The Government had moved him from place to place, given him the basics to survive, and then settled him in to training and an apartment shared with an equally hungover room mate – Cooper. He loved the guy like a brother. He was built like a tank, could lift a car and tip over a tractor. He had a sister that was a swimwear model and the rest of the guys tormented him mercilessly with it, there wasn't a single one of them Cooper hadn't threatened to kill at one point or another. But it was all in fun, none of them would dream of going after a brothers sister. It just wasn't something you did.

Leon felt and acted like a new man. While still in two minds about how he'd ended up here, he wasn't hating it. He was doing some real good in the world. Taking out some real bad guys. His body seemed built for this stuff, responded to the physical training. He was in the best condition of his whole life. The only thing that slowed him down even slightly – from time to time – was the mass of scar tissue where the bullet had pierced his shoulder in Raccoon City. Every now and then, on a pull up or a push up, it would twinge. But it was nothing he couldn't work through. He brushed it off. Pain just let you know you weren't dead yet.

He slings his holdall over his shoulder, leaves a note for passed out Cooper and says goodbye to the place for one whole week. Returning to the world – strange. He'd almost forgotten how to function amongst other, regular people. Not having weapons strapped to various parts of his body also felt unusual. Funny what could become the norm in such a short amount of time.

Yesterday, he was putting holes through the heads of a Cartel trying to sell deadly viruses. Today, he's getting coffee and a muffin and waiting for a flight to see his Dad. His life certainly took some turns.

The visit with his Father goes as expected. There's a lot of whiskey, a lot of talk. Leon tells him the bare minimum, that he worked with the Government now, a military sector, but it was classified. The word 'Classified' got him out of having to explain anything further. Which is a relief, because he wasn't entirely sure talking about the stuff he did now was something he was capable of. He'd obviously told his Father he'd survived Raccoon City. But talking about his feelings regarding any of it was just not something he was up for doing. Ever.

With anybody.

Which is why when he receives a text message from Claire Redfield, his stomach tangles up in to knots.

It's an awkward, rambling note from a 19 year old that was finally freaking out about everything that had happened. She was safe, she'd reunited with Chris. She was back in the USA – and she was struggling. Struggling with everything she'd seen, everything that had happened since that awful September day. She didn't know who else she could talk to. She needed someone.

Leon sits there staring at it, on the edge of his hotel room bed. His thumbs hovering over the keys of his phone. Mobile phones and text messaging, welcome to the millennium. He preferred it to email though, email was just a pain in the ass.

He didn't want to talk about it. He didn't want to rehash Raccoon City, or the work he did now, or what she'd been through on that fucking island. He'd looked up details on the case, of course he had. He'd been the one to track down Chris Redfield and get him out there to help her, but he didn't want to talk about feelings. He didn't, because if he did...

"Fuck." He mutters, closing his eyes. She needed him, he couldn't just turn her away. He couldn't because he knew exactly what she was feeling, every bit of it. And while he seemed to be able to lock it all away somewhere deep inside him, apparently she couldn't. She was a kickass, badass girl. The toughest he'd ever met. But she was still just a girl, a 19 year old, that felt alone. With a weight of horror on her shoulders that most people couldn't bear. That most people would probably bow out of it. Hell, he'd considered blowing his head off right in the middle of it, and that was something he hadn't admitted to a single fucking soul.

Hesitantly, his thumbs begin to type in a response. Asking where she was. Telling her he had a five more days off, if she wanted to hang out. If she wanted to.. talk. She could do the talking. He'd do the listening. He owed her that much, right?

* * *

 **February 24th, 1999**

 **Chicago**

Leon had suggested they meet up in a bar. Claire had reminded him she was only 19. So a coffee shop it was. He'd left his father in Colorado and taken a flight out to the windy city, getting a cheap hotel and then tracking down somewhere that at least did decent sandwiches for them to meet up. Everything about it felt weird, he felt anxious about seeing her again. It was like he was waiting for a first date or something. Expecting to get stood up? Or expecting her to suddenly be hideously ugly? Or maybe expecting her to be even more beautiful than he remembered. His mind was already a muddled mess. Already starting to go over the memories, and what he was going to say to her.

He sits stirring his coffee, pondering what else he could possibly have in common with a 19 year old girl besides the fact they survived a zombie apocalypse – when she practically sneaks up on him.

"You forgot to add the sugar.." she says to his side, making him jump like a complete fool and look up at her, then down at the two packets of sugar he'd put next to the coffee but not actually added.

"Oh, right.." he laughs a little, looking again from the packs and back to her and then shaking his head. He gets to his feet, smiling gently at her. "Hey.." he offers her a friendly hug. His brain swiftly debates asking her how she is – but if she was okay they wouldn't be here. He almost tells her she looks good, because she does, but decides that's not appropriate. Instead it just hangs there on 'hey'. She returns the hug, then backs off and smiles up at him. "You look good!" she beams in a bright, cheerful tone.

She stole the words right from him, and his eyebrows shoot up. "Thanks. You too." He gestures to her. She really did. Her red hair a slightly different shade to how he remembered it – a more cherry red than before, tied back in a scruffy pony. Lips the color of bubblegum. She was dressed in black leggings with some ass kicking biker boots, a tank top and a wine red leather jacket with various pins scattered around on it.

"How's Chris?" he asks. He'd met her brother briefly upon tracking him down, your typical, alpha male macho type. But he'd seemed like a good guy, thankful for being told of his sisters predicament.

"Oh.." she looks thoughtful as she takes a seat opposite him. "He's okay. Back in Nevada for now, bit of down time. I think he's working on something actually." She shrugs as the waitress comes over and takes her order. Leon watches her – she was all smiles, politeness, a twinkle in her eye. She didn't look as on the verge of a nervous breakdown as she'd sounded over text.

"Like what?" He asks when she returns her attention to him.

"He and his old partner, Jill Valentine. They want to take down Umbrella in a big bad way.." she puffs her cheeks and his brow lifts.

"Sounds like we're all working on the same team. Valentine.. name sounds familiar." He lifts his mug to his lips.

"Did you read about the incident at the Spencer Mansion, before Raccoon City?" She asks.

He blows some steam from the surface of his coffee, giving a slight nod. "That'll be it."

Claire gives him a small smile in response. She was checking him out, he could tell. It was the same look stuffy women in suits gave him when they interrogated him – back then.

"So you're still working for them, then?" She asks slowly, almost cautiously.

He lowers his mug, hitching a shoulder. "Yeah." It's a short answer, he didn't want to talk about it.

"Are you.. okay?" She asks cautiously.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"It's just.. government types. I don't know. I've been visiting Sherry, they freak her out."

"Well I'm not a ten year old girl.." He laughs a little.

"True, you're definitely not." She sighs and sits on her hands.

"I think the real question is are you okay?" he counters, "your text sounded.. pretty tense."

She dips her head to the side, looking away from him.

"Claire.. I flew out here, cause you wanted to talk." He reminds gently.

"Well make me feel bad why dontcha." She responds quickly, a little laugh escaping.

"I'm not trying to make you feel bad just..." He quiets as the waitress arrives, giving Claire her cappuccino. "I'm here. If you wanna talk." He finishes once the pretty blonde is gone.

Claire fiddles with her cup. Nodding.

"Guess I just wasn't expecting it to be like.. immediate. Thought we might ease in to it."

He watches her. Then after a moment inwardly kicks himself. What had happened to him lately? Did his new vocation in life strip him of any empathy too?

She sips her cappuccino and when she lowers the cup, there's a smudge of foam on the tip of her nose that she doesn't seem to notice. Leon smiles at her and she looks back at him with those pretty eyes.

"What?" she laughs a little.

He leans over, gently swiping the foam from the tip of her nose with his finger and showing it to her. "Dangers of fancy coffee." He says quietly.

"Oh." She blushes bright red. Almost the same color as her hair.

It was entirely adorable.

He relaxes, reminding himself that he used to be a regular dude and even if he felt like he was about a hundred years old right now, he was actually only 21 himself. He didn't need to be the devout soldier on his day off. In fact, he shouldn't be. That wasn't who he was. He didn't want all of this to strip him of the person he'd always been – and maybe that was what they'd been trying to do. Mould him in to their vision of the perfect soldier.

It was awkward, talking in a coffee shop. It felt like there were ears and eyes on them, even though nobody around them likely cared about the conversation of two complete strangers. But after a while, he pushes his mug aside and offers her a gentle smile. "You wanna ditch this joint?"

"God yes." She says with a sweet laugh, she'd barely drunk any of her fancy coffee.

He pays for them both like an actual gentleman, and they head back out on to the street. It seems easier out there, to just walk. Just talk. Hands in the pockets of their respective leather jackets, he listens as she tells him about what went down on Rockfort Island, the insanity of the T-Veronica virus, and a guy she met – Steve. For some reason, it makes something inside Leon prickle, as she talks emotionally about how sweet this dude had been and how guilty she felt over his death.

It kinda reminded him of how he felt about Ada.

"Wasn't your fault." he says quietly, as they sit side by side on a park bench in front of a lake. The sun was starting to go down. It glittered over the surface of the water and bathed them in a golden light.

"I could have done something.. I could have stopped it.."

"Like what?" He asks with a vague shrug, gazing at the water. "You didn't know how that was going to play out. None of us can see the future. All we can do.. is our best."

"Well I should have done better." She whispers, wrapping her arms around herself.

"I could say the same." He pulls his hands from his jacket pockets and rests his elbows on his knees, leaning forward in thought. "I could have done so much more back there in Raccoon City. Maybe I could have saved Ada." He shrugs. "Maybe not. Maybe there's some master plan. Maybe we're all just pissin' in the wind. I've given up trying to make sense of all of this, Claire." He looks over to her.

She's quiet, staring at the water. "If we can't make sense of it how do we live in it?"

"We just keep going. However we can. We can't blame ourselves for the bullshit other people unleash in to the world." He blamed himself entirely for Ada's death, but this was what friends did. They offered comfort. Support. Right?

She sighs to his side and suddenly, she's leaning her head against his shoulder. It takes him by surprise, for a moment, his entire body tenses. Before he reminds himself he's not on duty anymore. He's just a guy – and she obviously needed someone.

Hell, maybe he did too.

"You'll be alright, kiddo." He sighs, leaning his cheek against the top of her head in return.

"Kiddo.." she laughs slightly, and lifts a hand to her face. "I'm nearly 20, you know. And you're not that much older."

"Ha, I feel about a hundred at this point." He muses.

"Well, you're not." She pulls back, looking at him. He returns the gaze, offering her a smile. "Your hair got longer." She says thoughtfully, lifting a hand and tucking some of it back from his eyes, "I don't know why but I assumed once you went all military you'd have shaved your head or something. Like Chris."

"Not that kind of military." He answers.

"Well that's a relief."

"It is?" he breathes a laugh.

"Yeah. You'd look really..." she pushes his hair back off of his face, fully styling him. "You'd look like every other guy with it short."

At that, he laughs properly. Feigning being offended. "Oh thanks."

"I'm serious, this is a look that works for you. Never change it." She gestures.

"Well I didn't plan on it. Unless they hold me down and cut it off.. for now.." He couldn't believe he was talking hair with a girl on a park bench in Chicago. He was splitting heads open a few days ago.

"Good." She finally leaves his hair alone, returning her hands to her lap and looking out at the water again. "I'm glad you're okay." She murmurs after a while.

He nods, leaning back on the bench and letting his legs stretch a bit. "Never thought my life would turn out like this, but I guess.. all part of the ride, huh." He closes his eyes as a gentle breeze whips his hair in to them, waiting for it to pass before he opens them again.

"I guess so." She nods. "How long are you in Chicago?"

"Overnight." He looks to her.

"I'd ask if you wanna grab a drink but.. everywhere here is over 21.."

He shakes his head. "Other shit we can do."

"Like?"

"Pizza and a movie? I haven't done that since before Raccoon City."

"Jeez, they really have got you locked away, huh." She sighs.

"It's just been training. As you can see, I'm out now." He smiles.

"But you're going back."

"Yeah, on to the next assignment, whatever that is." He rolls his shoulders and gets to his feet, holding his hand out to her. "C'mon, before Chicago freezes us to death." The sun was almost gone and it was still winter, the last rays of warmth giving way to nothing but the windy city's trademark cold.

She takes his hand and the grip lingers a fraction longer than perhaps it should. By the time they're walking, both sets of hands are back in their pockets.

They get pizza, and they actually see a movie. For a few hours, he feels like a normal guy again. Like Raccoon City never happened. Like he wasn't a trained killer now. Like he was just a dude out with a girl on a date.

Was that what this was?

As he walks her back to her room, he's at war with himself over that notion. Was that what this was? A date? Did she just need him as a friend, or was there something more at work? The way she looked at him.

Or was he just horny after almost five months without even speaking to another woman that wasn't several ranks above him in the food chain and not interested in him or his stupid haircut.

"This is me." She points to the door to her room.

"Why'd you pick Chicago?" He asks curiously.

"Cause.. it just feels like home." She answers with a shrug. "This is where Chris and I grew up."

"Really?"

"Yeah. After our parents died we had a foster family here.."

Leon's eyebrows lift and he leans against the door frame. "I didn't know that."

"Of course you didn't, I didn't tell you.." she winks at him. Its a shot to the heart – maybe the groin. He inwardly tells himself to behave. "I just tend to come back here, when I can."

"And Chris lives out in Nevada?"

"Right." She pulls her key from her pocket and slips it into the lock, looking at him.

His interested smile fades, and he lifts his hand to scratch the back of his neck. "I guess I better get going."

She turns the lock, pushing the door open a little. "Or.. could just.. hang out a bit?" She says it shyly. Awkwardly.

He studies her, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "I don't know if that's a good idea." He says quietly. There's a big chunk of him that wants to put on the moves. That wants to see where this goes. But a bigger part tells him she's just lonely, and maybe looking for comfort in all the wrong places.

"I'm not a kid.." She breaks in to his thoughts gently, like she'd read his mind. He blinks.

"I'm not suggesting you are.. just.." he draws in a breath, looking at the door.

"And I'm not suggesting we jump in and get nekkid and romp around.." She laughs, blushing furiously as she says it. "I just – could use the company." She admits, "I don't sleep too well these days."

He gazes at her. Giving her a sympathetic smile. "Well, that makes two of us."

"So come in.. sleep with me." She hesitates, then giggles. "In a non body smushing way."

He snaps his fingers, feigning awful disappointment.

"I know I know.. you've just been waiting to pounce me."

"It was my master plan." He teases gently, following her in to the room. She locks up behind them and switches on the TV while he raids the mini bar, telling her he'd pay for what he drank.

Mixing himself a whiskey and coke, she sticks with a soda. They shed leather jackets and get themselves comfortable on the bed side by side, arranging pillows so they could lean back against the headboard without it digging in to their backs. After a while, boots are discarded too, and amidst idle chit chat through episodes of Friends, she curls up against him, resting her head on his chest. He lets his arm move around her, just holding her gently.

It's nice. A kind of easy solidarity. Peaceful.

Leon drains the last of his second drink and places it carefully on the nightstand, then looks back to her, curled up there at his side. She was sound asleep. He smiles.

It felt good.

He closes his eyes, letting himself drift away too.

But sleep isn't kind to him that night. It plagues him with monsters, with the undead clawing and biting and scratching at his skin. In his nightmare, it isn't Ada that's thrown to her death – its Claire. And she meets her end in boiling lava, screaming in agony, pleading for his help and crying in pain. Just out of his reach. He can't save her.

He wakes with a jolt that startles her awake too. Looking at him with wide eyes as he breathes heavily and sits up, looking around the room that was only lit now by the flickering light of the TV. Getting his bearings, his thundering heart refusing to steady.

"Are you okay?" She asks quietly.

Leon looks back to her and even in the dim light his eyes betray him. He wasn't okay. Not even a little bit.

"It's alright.." she soothes and beckons him to lie back down. Wearily, almost cautiously, he does. Turning on to his side he props his head up with his hand, his elbow resting on the pillow. He rubs his temple a little, as though trying to remove the nightmare physically. Scrub it from his eyes.

"Bad dream?"

He gives the slightest nod.

"I get them too." Claire whispers. She reaches out her hand, gently brushing his forearm with her fingertips in a small and cautious attempt to comfort. His eyes shift to hers, gazing at her for a moment. There was nothing in him that could put that stuff in to words. He didn't have them. How he felt about Raccoon City, how he felt about the death of Ada. About any of the things he'd seen and done over the past five months. It just haunted him, and he just lived with it.

Fear. You learned to put it away. Close it up in a little box somewhere inside you and just exist with it.

He lowers his head to his arm, closing his eyes. Hiding his face away. But his hand seeks out hers. Fingers tangling, quiet solidarity. After five months, he feels it.

For just a moment.

He breaks. And Claire Redfield sees him through.


	4. Maybe Just Once

**Authors Note:** Bring a strong drink and probably a cold shower. Oft, it's getting hot in here.

* * *

 **Funny how your eyes keep wandering**  
 **Every time I speak of deeper things**  
 **My love has no walls, it has no strings**  
 **So if you want to go, if you want to leave**  
 **When you're ready, c** **ome be with me**

 **I don't want to be angry anymore**  
 **So speak your truth even if it hurts**  
 **cause your silence has been whispering**  
 **That you're still looking and it's not for me**  
 **When you're ready, c** **ome be with me**

 **\- Bird York**

* * *

If Raccoon City had created an unbreakable connection between Leon Kennedy and Claire Redfield, then that one night in Chicago forged a deeper bond than either had expected. It was the first time he'd really let himself feel the things that had happened to him and while she'd evidently been struggling with it herself, he'd kept it all tightly bound somewhere inside. He hadn't wanted to, but once that barrier had come down he couldn't stop it – and she'd been there. Seeing him through with a gentle, guiding hand. He'd thought he was the one that was supposed to be there to comfort her, but they'd ended up comforting each other.

No, not in a sweaty – no clothing kind of way. They hadn't touched each other like that at all, in fact, all thoughts of even trying to do so fled both of their minds. Sometimes other things were just more important, like survival. Like healing, or at the very least beginning to. They'd slept in and he'd ended up missing his flight and staying another day, just hanging out, talking. Though after their emotional sleepover, both of them kept the days conversation light. Getting to know one another as people, and not just survivors of Raccoon City.

The next day, he returned to Colorado and to his Father to ride out the last of his leave. He picked up a blonde in a bar and fucked her on her couch in her apartment while her roommate slept in the next room. It was the first sex he'd had since before Raccoon City – to say it was uneventful was an understatement. Determined to make up for this, he picked up a redhead the next night and took her back to his hotel room. This time the sex was intense and determined – the redhead left with a wobble in her step and a smile on her face. Casanova Kennedy was officially born.

He returned to Nebraska ready to take on the fucking world. And that was exactly what they made him do.

* * *

 **December 31st, 1999**

 **New York, New York**

He'd been an active field agent in the Counter Bio Terror world for a full year. Demand for him had been on a steady incline since his Mexico job. Word spreading fast that if you needed something doing swiftly, cleanly and most of all – right. You should ask for Leon Kennedy. He was something of an enigma. Nobody quite knew how a 22 year old had become so fucking good so fucking fast. He picked things up at a staggering speed, an endless bank for learning, soaking up information like a sponge. They discovered that he had a near photographic memory and that served him well – but it wasn't just his capacity for retaining information, strategies, details and more – he could learn practical skills in an afternoon. Mastering every weapon put in front of him with swift ease. Picking up various martial arts techniques in a handful of sessions. And nobody was more dedicated than he was – he trained every day he wasn't out on active field ops. It was his life, completely.

Except for when he had a day or a weekend off, then he did the other thing he was best at. Picking up women.

He quickly earned a reputation as both uncatchable bachelor and suave ladies man. Usually men that worked their way through a lot of women became thought of in a certain way. But he charmed everybody, even the stuffy suits. He just had a way about him, he couldn't tell you where it came from. When it came to women – just like the piano – he could always just play.

It didn't hurt that he looked like a movie star either. Many drawing a direct comparison to Brad Pitt in Thelma and Louise or Meet Joe Black. He didn't hate it. Sometimes he even wore a cowboy hat, if the right mood took.

So far, there hadn't been a job or a woman put in front of Leon Kennedy that he couldn't conquer. He felt pretty much on top of the world. But there were definitely two sides to this very shiny coin. The side he presented to the world, and the side he kept hidden away. From everybody. Except for Claire Redfield. His anchor, his companion, his calm in the storm. They hadn't seen each other since Chicago, but they kept in contact almost constantly. He'd return from overseas or wherever they had sent him, and find messages on his phone. He'd return them as soon as he could. She was doing well and had joined a group named TerraSave, founded in the aftermath of Raccoon City. She was helping people in the aftermath of Bio Terror incidents – to Leon, it sounded like the perfect job for her. She'd helped heal him, after all. And if someone could get under his 500 layers of armor then they had a gift.

It was the eve of the millenium. There was excitement and anxiety in the air. A lot of the worlds military and police forces were on high alert – not just because of the threat of terrorism – that was a New Years Eve possibility every year. The 'Y2K' threat was scaring a lot of people, wild theories thrown around that there would be complete computer failure at midnight. That the world would be plunged in to darkness or some other apocalyptic nightmare. Leon was off duty, but he was on call. Just in case.

Off duty in this instance meant he was in New York City, the New Years celebration capital of the world. At a work related charity ball – it was not his scene even slightly, but he went where he was told to go, always. Maybe they just wanted him in New York in case something insane went down, or maybe he was there to charm some people on behalf of the US Government. Either way, he was in a way too expensive suit, clean shaven and doing his best not to mingle. Do you have any idea how boring a New Years Eve party is when you're on call and can't drink? Especially a New Years Eve party comprised almost entirely of people he had absolutely nothing in common with. He was not high society – though he could fake it with the best of them. He was not from a board room, he didn't do conferences. He mostly shot people in the head.

Still, there was a good atmosphere. Equal parts anxiety and excitement as everybody waited for that countdown. He didn't care much for the whole New Years thing, days never made much difference to him. Mostly, he was there because she would be. TerraSave had sent representatives to the ball, and Claire Redfield was one of them. Though as per usual – she was late.

Women.

He's leaning against the bar pretending a plain pepsi has vodka in it when he finally spots her. His drink hovers just below his lips as his eyes run over her – it seemed turning 20 suited her. Or maybe it was just the fact that she was in a figure hugging, floor length black dress that clung to curves he'd never seen before because they were hidden by leather and denim.

"Fuck.." he mutters quietly to himself, making the older woman standing next to him arch an eyebrow and look at him with a little distaste. He couldn't care less, he was fixated on Claire Redfield as she spotted him and made her way through the crowd toward him. The dress plunged low between cleavage he'd never even noticed she had, and went around the back of her neck like a halter top, showing off her shoulders. He'd always had a weakness for the shoulders and neck of a woman, and with her cherry red hair pulled up in to a knot, his heart was beating just a fraction faster.

The black material clung to her slender waist and showed off hips that seemed designed to taunt a man. She wore heels underneath that made her legs even longer.

Leon Kennedy was thinking some very bad thoughts, and as she arrives in front of him, he kicks himself inwardly. This was Claire. His lighthouse in a storm – not a conquest waiting to be made.

Behave.

Behave. Grow up. She's your friend.

"Hey, stranger," he smiles, setting his drink down on the bar and leaning in to return her hug. She smelled incredible.

"Hey you, sorry I'm late." She giggles beside his ear, giving him a little squeeze and then stepping back to look at him. "Jeez, you clean up well."

He smirks. He wore a black suit with a dark navy shirt, he felt a little James Bond if he was honest, especially with the holsters hidden away beneath the jacket. "Could say the same for you, where's the denim and leather?" he asks, before capturing the bar tenders attention.

She laughs, "back at my hotel room. For one night only, I'm trying on classy and elegant."

He smiles at her, giving her a pointed look up and down that makes her blush scarlet. "It's workin' for you." He winks.

She can't speak for a moment, and he orders her a pepsi.

"Diet!" She corrects. Finally finding her voice.

He rolls his eyes. "It's new years eve, woman. Live a little."

"I don't need the extra sugar, I'm sweet enough."

"Ohh..." he laughs, "can't argue with that." He orders himself a refill of his.

"Not drinking?"

"On call." He explains.

"Oh, I thought you had the night off?"

"I do, unless some crazy shit goes down with this Y2K thing." He shrugs a shoulder, "then I'm back on duty."

Claire bites her lip, leaning against the bar. "Does that mean you're armed under there?"

He looks at her, amused. "Classified."

"Oh shut up." She makes a face at him. "Classified my ass."

He shoots her a grin. "Is that an offer or a challenge?"

She turns a whole other shade of crimson. Taking her drink as the bar tender puts it in front of her. Leon picks up his own drink and tells himself off a little. He needed to chill the hell out with the flirting. That wasn't what they were, he didn't need to end the night getting slapped when she finally lost her patience with him.

They move away from the bar, working through the crowd of people and finding a table to sit at to drink and talk. He pulls her chair out for her, like an actual gentleman. She seems suitably impressed.

He asks her how her birthday was, even though it had happened in August. He'd sent her a birthday message on the day but other than that they hadn't had much chance to talk lately. They catch up, and even without a real drink in his hand it amazes him how at ease she always made him. Even when he was working his best game, he usually had some kind of guard up around other people. But around Claire it all fell down. He was just Leon, the Colorado kid that wasn't all that cool. She was like a small slice of home, even though they came from very different worlds. He supposed sometimes some people just felt that way – familiar.

"I hear you're making some pretty big waves out there." She changes the subject, twisting her pepsi glass in her hand.

He takes a sip of his and lowers it. "Oh yeah? Who'd you hear that from?"

"Chris, mostly."

Leon frowns. "Guess word travels in our little corner of the world, huh."

She smiles at him, "I guess so."

He quiets, looking down in to his drink. He still had a hard time merging the two people he was. The Leon Kennedy that could snipe a man between the eyes from a mile away and plain ole Leon, the regular guy.

"You don't like talking about it, huh?" She says quietly.

He draws a breath, hitching a shoulder. "Hard to know what to say. It's a job, I get to stop bad guys fucking up the world worse than it is. It's tough.. but its.."

"Fighting the good fight." She finishes, gazing at him. He nods slowly. "But it's not easy." She continues.

He looks in to his drink.

"It's not a bad thing to be effected by it, Leon." Claire softly reminds him, "Chris is the same. We've all been through stuff since Raccoon City. Seen things."

He licks his lips and clears his throat, shaking his head. "Can we.. not?"

Her face falls and she nods. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright. Just.. supposed to be a party evening." He chuckles.

"Right, waiting for the ball to drop." She quirks an eyebrow.

He narrows his eyes at her. "Now you're just baiting me in to terrible jokes."

She laughs, getting up from her seat. "I have to pee, I'll be back."

Leon gives her a little, playful salute as she gets up and heads off in search of the restrooms. He sits back in his chair and stretches his arms, looking around and then checking his phone. So far, all was quiet. Except for the party people around them. As the night drew on, the music was changing to something more jovial and modern. The guests getting a decent amount of drinks in them. Kinda sucked being the sober dude at the celebration – the trials of being an adult. 22 years old and already with the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Its as he fiddles with his phone, that the strangest feeling runs up his spine. Like a tingle, the hairs standing up on the back of his neck. It makes him pause, eyes narrowing. Usually, when he had that feeling – it meant a hostile was close. Something that wanted to eat his face or pull out his insides, or plain old shoot him in the head. His jaw tenses and he lifts his eyes, looking through the veil of his hair and around the bar of this ballroom. He glances behind himself, sticking his tongue in his cheek. Something.. somewhere.

He eases from the chair, practically ready to draw if he needed to. He trusted his senses, he always did. They served him well. He glances to his left and in the reflection of the window, standing behind him, he sees a sight that makes him freeze. Looking straight at him.

It couldn't be.

"Ada?" He whispers.

Leon quickly turns around and sees a red dress and black hair move away through the crowd. He leaves the drinks, pushing forward through the mass of people and after her. He had to know, even if he made a complete fool of himself and grabbed some stranger. He had to know. Or was he just chasing a ghost?

He eases past people and out in to the open ballroom. Drunk people everywhere, dancing and celebrating. He looks around frantically – spots the red dress and moves quickly after it.

"Ada!" He calls out this time. She disappears through a door that led to the stairs to the roof. Was he crazy? Was he chasing a phantom? Was it all in his head? She was dead, she died in his arms.

But the hairs on his arms hadn't stood up for no reason.

He takes the stairs two at a time, finding the door to the roof ajar when it should be closed. He takes a deep breath, pushing it open and stepping outside. It was cold, wind blowing and whipping his hair into his eyes. A slight sleet in the air, such a chill. He braces to the winter weather, heading further out onto the roof and looking around. The whole city was celebrating, music coming from everywhere. He could hear the echoes from all around.

"Ada?!" He calls out, beginning to feel a bit stupid. Had he really just chased a ghost up to the roof of this building? He could have sworn it was her, she looked right at him in the reflection of that window. "Ada if you're here.." he begins, looking around. He trails off, closing his eyes and bowing his head. He was being ridiculous. She was dead. He was holding her in his arms when she died. "You're chasing phantoms," he mutters to himself, growling a little. He takes one last look around, lingering on the far edge of the roof. He still felt her. Like she was standing right there.

Better not mention this to anyone, they'd have him yanked off of field duty and in to a psych evaluation in a heartbeat.

He shakes off the cold and closes the roof door behind him, stepping back in to the stairwell. He returns to the party.

On the roof, Ada leans against a utility unit that had hidden her away, freezing cold in her dress. He'd seen her and her heart was racing. She takes a deep breath as she hears the door close behind him. "Guess I'm taking the fire escape.." she says quietly to herself.

Back in the ballroom, Leon returns to the bar. Making his way back to the table he'd been sharing with Claire. He finds her sitting there, looking a little confused.

"Hey, there you are.." She smiles at him as he returns, "are you okay?"

"Yeah.." he sounded hesitant, a frown on his face. About to say he'd had to go to the bathroom too.

"There's snow on you.."

"Oh.." he looks at his jacket, dotted with little spots of sleet that were quickly melting. "Had to take a call, line was bad." He lies, feeling like shit for it.

The worst part is he's fairly sure she knows he's lying, because the look she gives him says she isn't buying it. "You wanna ditch this party?" She asks.

His eyebrows jump. He'd already shaken all the hands he was supposed to.

"You don't have to be here for work?" he asks.

She shrugs. "There's others here, they won't miss me. I mostly came to see you."

She says it and a little smile spreads across his face, replacing the pensive expression he'd had before. "You did?"

"Don't sound so surprised. I get to see you like twice a year.." She shrugs.

"Well where'd you wanna go?" He asks.

"Pick up some burgers, go back to one of our hotels?" She suggests.

He sighs, considering this. "I'll walk you back to yours." He says quietly.

"But no funny stuff." She waves a finger at him, making him laugh softly.

"No funny stuff, I swear." He holds up his hands.

She gives him a wink and he shrugs off his jacket, offering it to her. "It's freezing out there."

"Aw, you're such a gentleman." She blushes, taking it and covering that gorgeous dress. He really was crazy.

Leon shakes a few more hands on his way out of the party, saying his goodbyes like a good soldier. Then they step out on to the freezing cold New York street. He barely knew this city, but you were never far from somewhere to eat. He pauses to ask a cop on patrol where they could get a decent burger in this town. A block away. He takes Claire's hand and they run through the ice cold rain and sleet, laughing as they go. Her heels made it tough going and she almost slips. With lightning quick reactions he catches her, scooping her up onto the side walk and making her giggle.

"My hero."

"Gotta be good for something." He smirks. They duck on to the little burger joint and look thoroughly out of place in their fancy clothes.

They get food, and the strange feeling in his stomach over the Ada incident slowly fades away. Burgers and fries demolished, he hails them a cab back to her hotel. It's 11pm by the time they reach her room, and he calls down to room service for a bottle of champagne.

"I thought you weren't supposed to drink tonight.." she says quietly, letting her hair down from it's knot now that they're safely away from the world.

"I'm not, but half a glass when it hits midnight wont even make a dent." He shrugs, hanging up the phone and trying not to stare at her. He crosses the room, moving to the window. The view over the city was quite beautiful. He so rarely got a chance to stop and take in the places he visited.

She eases off his jacket and hangs it over the back of a chair, moving over to switch on the TV so they could watch the traditional count down.

He watches her, that black dress skimming her phenomenal figure.

Behave, Kennedy.

He leans against the wall, looking out as some fireworks already streak across the sky. She answers the door as room service arrives with their drinks, thanking them and walking in with two glasses and the bottle in an ice bucket. He smiles as she brings them over, setting the bottle down on the window sill. He picks it up and twists the wire, discarding it and popping the cork with a push of his thumbs. It makes her yelp as some bubbles fizz over. He catches them in his mouth, bringing the bottle to his lips and drinking the overspill.

"Well now you're down to quarter of a glass," she reminds him.

He gives her a little wink, letting her hold them as he fills them both. "What's New Years Eve if you don't break a rule or two? The second being you're still too young to be legally drinking it." he reminds with a smirk.

"Touche." She holds up the glass. "Do we wait until midnight?"

"Do you want to?" he asks quietly, setting the bottle back down. Looking at her. She bites her lip, lifting her glass and then taking a sip.

He laughs in a breath. "I'll take that as a no."

"Do we toast anything?" She asks.

He looks thoughtful, holding his glass close to hers. "To.. surviving."

"Oh, that's good. I like that." She clinks her glass gently against his and they both drink. Outside, more fireworks blaze across the sleet filled sky, the time edging ever closer to midnight.

They drink, and they talk, and soon they're watching the seconds count down on the TV as the gathered crowd in Times Square chant along with the clock.

Happy New Year!

Fireworks explode across the night sky, and Leon gazes out of the window. Waiting. For the lights to go out, for the world to end, for all the terrible things to happen that people had theorized about for months with the millennium looming. But nothing happens. The year 2000 arrives and the party goes on. He looks back to Claire, leaning his head against the window.

"The world didn't end." He says quietly.

"Not tonight." She replies with a soft smile.

"Maybe tomorrow." He murmurs.

"Happy new year, Leon."

"Happy new year, Claire."

The kiss happens easily and naturally, his hands coming up to carefully cup her face as their lips brush together – tentative, cautious, then finally surrendering. She makes the softest moan of a sound into it and its an instant thunderbolt to his groin. He wanted her. He'd wanted her since the moment he met her and right now there was nothing else in his head besides that need. Logic and reason and self preservation left the building.

She brings her hands to his arms and runs them over his biceps, then hooks them around his neck, leaning her body in to his. He's done for – the taste of her, to have her in his grasp. His fingers drift down along her back, over bare, soft skin. Reaching the low cut material of her dress. She mews against his lips as they break for air, and he turns her, pressing her against the wall beside the window.

The soft sound of want that she makes. It's needy, its lust fueled, its over a year of holding back. He rucks the skirt of her dress up, lifting her from her feet, she wraps her legs around him and his lips shift from hers to her neck. She grabs at him, hands bunching in his too expensive shirt, hips pressing against his. She felt out of control, like some other person had taken over her body and was making her decisions for her. His hand grabs her breast and she moans. What was happening to her brain?

He reclaims the kiss. Their mouths coming together in lust, a deep and demanding kiss. She rolls her hips against him and she feels him, that hardness pressing against her. And she freezes, her entire body tensing, a mew escaping her.

She slams on the breaks, tearing her mouth away from his. "Stop.. wait.." she pants breathlessly, grabbing at the front of his shirt.

"What's wrong?" he asks, equally breathless. He studies her face, her eyes. She looked.. scared. He frowns.

"I can't." She whispers.

"We don't have to.." he breathes, still holding her up. "Did I do something wrong?" He can't help it. He had to ask. If he'd been too pushy, if he'd misread everything, then he was sorry.

"No.. no.." she licks her lips, running her hands over his chest. "I just.."

"What is it?" he asks gently.

"I've never done this before." She admits in the tiniest whisper.

His heart suddenly feels like it's thudding in his chest. "Oh.."

"I want to.." she adds, "I just.."

He carefully sets her down, brushing his hands over her hips as he does, he pulls away. She catches his hand, linking their fingers carefully, she pushes herself away from the wall and lifts her other hand to his face.

"I want it to be you.." she says boldly, and quietly. "Just, not like that, all rushy."

His mouth felt as dry as the desert suddenly. All of a sudden, suave Kennedy had no idea what to do. "Why me?"

"Because I trust you, I think more than anybody I ever met.." she smiles.

"I can't give you the fairytale.." he admits quietly.

"Since when have our lives ever been a fairytale?" She asks. She had a good point.

He lifts his palm to her cheek and she leans in to it, his thumb lightly brushes over her lower lip. "I don't know, I don't know what to do here.." he swallows, "I don't want you to regret it."

"And I don't want to regret it." She laughs quietly. "I just.. want it to be you."

He searches her eyes.

"You got me through my first end of the world.." she says with a bite of her lip that's so adorable it makes his stomach do that flip flop thing.

"Well, hopefully this wont be as traumatic." He jokes gently.

It makes her laugh. It's a nervous laugh, but it leads back to a kiss. This one was gentle. Cautious. Asking.

This time – as the world celebrates a brand new millennium outside – he carefully takes her down to the bed. Clothes come away piece by piece. She unbuttons his shirt and runs her hands over his bare chest beneath, letting her nails lightly scratch. She pushes it from his shoulders and he discards it, never really taking his eyes from hers. She lets her fingers trace over the scar in his shoulder, and she finds another at his ribs from a more recent mission.

"What happened?" She whispers.

"Jumped through a window.." he answers, brushing a kiss over her cheek. "Glass."

"Crazy man." She leans up and kisses his shoulder, slipping her hand around his back as he guides her legs apart, letting him settle between them.

"So they tell me." He breathes against her ear, then kisses her brow, moving back to her lips. He moves his hips against her, letting her feel him. It makes her tremble, a little shiver he feels. His hand dips down, grasping her thigh, drawing it up along his ribs as they kiss deep and intense. His careful grind against her was hitting a spot that made her tingle all over.

As he moves away from her mouth and kisses her neck, she moans. Nerves and need, a powerful, heady mixture of things to feel. "Leon.." she whispers.

He carefully nips at her collarbone, then lifts his head to look in her eyes. "Yeah?"

She giggles, blushing as red as her hair. He grins, pulling back a bit. He helps her remove that beautiful dress. Uncovering a body that was a crime to hide away.

"You are so fucking beautiful.." he murmurs, turning her blush up another level.

She tucks her hand in his hair as he kisses a valley between her breasts, over her flat stomach. Her legs shake, both nerves and anticipation as he rids her of the last barrier she had left. Her heart races, her nerves jangled, looking up at him as he undoes his belt.

Panic. Pleasure. Was it all the same thing? How had she ended up here? With everything she wanted and everything she was terrified of rolled in to one? She didn't trust men, she didn't even particularly like them. She'd had two boyfriends and both had been awful, only interested in getting her in to bed and when they couldn't have her, they'd cheated on her. High school boys were the dirt worst.

But Leon wasn't a high school boy. And she wasn't that high school girl anymore.

She felt safe with him. She always had. If there was anybody she could trust to tear down this wall she'd built around herself – it had to be him. Even if there was no happy ever after. Losing it to your best friend? That couldn't be bad.

"Oh God.." she mews anxiously as he's finally as naked as she is. He was all muscle and power, that Brad Pitt comparison she'd heard couldn't be more on the money, only he looked even better. And he was between her legs, making her feel ridiculous things.

"Relax.." he whispers against her neck. His fingers touching her, he knew he was doing a decent job, she was already slick and hot and wet. The last scrap of sanity he has left is spent on grabbing his jacket and getting them some protection. It would help ease her mind too. Help her relax. With that taken care of, they return to a kiss and she wraps herself around him. Her stomach full of butterflies, her belly full of – other things that fluttered.

"Ah!" the sound she makes as he pushes gently in to her. Her fingers dig in to his back, her whole body tenses. Her body objecting to the sudden invasion. So he kisses her and soothes and doesn't move a muscle until she's ready. It's the biggest endurance test he's ever faced, but he flatly refuses to let her down. When he finally feels her relax, he carefully begins to move. Deeper, taking her, until the discomfort fleets from her face and she begins to move with him. Accepting, wanting. Her body discovering it was built for this.

They talk softly to one another, lips a breath apart, looking in to her eyes and making sure she's okay. She gazes right back at him. He took her breath away, the feel of him inside her unlike anything she'd experienced before. Intense.. and so good. She begins to encourage him, a want building inside her she couldn't describe. A need. More. Harder. He obliges. Kissing, hands gripping her thighs, putting that power of his to good use.

His forehead drops to her shoulder and he pants hot breath against her neck. Free to cry out, she does so, hands dragging down his back leaving a trail in the thin sheen of sweat that covered them both. Its like an explosion rocks her body, a feeling radiating through her that makes her jerk against him and clutch at him and cry out his name. He growls against her neck, snapping his hips harder, riding out her pleasure and crashing in to his own.

Panting. Hearts thundering. She clings to him like a vine. Like she'd shatter if she let go. He stills, breathing heavily. His hand strokes her thigh.

"Did the world end?" she whispers, "I think the world ended."

He chuckles wearily, kissing her neck. "Not yet." He lifts his head, looking down at her and gently stroking some strands of hair back from her eyes. "There's still time."

"Oh.. good.." she says breathlessly, then giggles, lifting her head to kiss him.

"Are you okay?" he asks when it breaks.

"Perfect." She answers, smiling. "I'm perfect."

Job well done, Agent Kennedy.

He places one last kiss on her brow and eases from her. The aftermath was always an awkward annoyance, but he gets that taken care of and returns to her, holding the bottle of champagne. He takes a swig from it, checking his phone.

"Officially off duty.." he says, sitting back down on the bed beside her, he offers her the bottle and she takes a drink.

"Well, I'm glad they didn't call you, especially not.. then.." She giggles. Blushing. How was she still so effected by him? He'd been inside her now, you'd think she'd be over it. But it's very cute.

"Yeah they might have had to wait." He nods, taking the bottle back when she's done with it.

"Might?!"

He laughs. "To be honest I don't think I'd even have heard it."

She stretches beside him, moving that lithe body, still utterly naked. Enticing.

"Stay?" She suggests, hopefully.

"Okay." He nods, like he needed convincing.

* * *

 **January 14th, 2000**

 **Nebraska - USSTRATCOM Base**

"Kennedy!"

Leon stops in his tracks as the voice of his superior officer calls him from down the hall. He turns back with a "Yes, sir?"

"Come in to my office for a moment?"

Leon hesitates, but does as asked. Heading inside and closing the door behind him at his request.

"We're going to need you to lead a team on a search and rescue, an undercover agent of ours went missing in Russia."

"Russia?" He asks with a frown.

"A syndicate we believe with ties to Umbrella. She was attempting to get proof of the manufacture and sale of bio weapons. We lost contact with her 48 hours ago." He moves a file over the desk toward him and he takes it, lifting it up to read over the information. Russia, in winter, it would be cold enough to freeze their collective balls off before they found a soul. He simply nods. "Transport is being readied, you'll fly out tonight."

"Yes, sir."

"Full brief in an hour, I won't be your handler on this one. I just thought I'd bring it up while you're here."

"Oh?" Leon closes the folder.

"You asked me to look in to a name for you."

Leon's jaw tenses.

"A.. Ms Ada Wong."

"Yes, sir."

His superior drops a second folder down in front of him. "Its a code name."

Leon's eyebrows jump. "For?"

"I don't know. Just know that it's an alias. And she is very much alive and well, and according to recent intel.. last seen in.."

"Russia." Leon finishes.

His superior smiles.

"Thankyou, sir." Leon gives him a nod and takes his leave. His knuckles whitening around the folder as he stalks down the hall.

She was fucking alive.


	5. There is a Hell, This is Worse

**Authors Note:** Disturbing content ahead, seriously. If you're easily upset then turn away. But for those of you in it for the long haul, lets find out how RE4's stoic, quippy warrior was created, shall we?

Also apologies for the small delay on update. Was just getting another story finished, now? this one has my undivided attention. Lets break some hearts!

* * *

 **I'm trying not to think about**  
 **All the things you did before,**  
 **But sometimes it all just gets to me.**  
 **I can't take it anymore.**  
 **I'll stay with you,**  
 **But remember to**  
 **Be careful what you do,**  
 **Cause I'm not bulletproof**

 **\- Kerli**

* * *

 **January 17th, 2000**

 **Totleben Island, Russia**

You can only ride the crest of a wave for so long before it has to come crashing down. In just over a year Leon Kennedy had gone from rookie cop to star USSTRATCOM trainee to the top of his game. In demand, always busy, leading the front line on the new and unfolding war against Bio Terrorism and the companies that enabled it. He took every mission and smashed it to pieces. He felt untouchable, invincible. When you're constantly told you're the best it's hard not to develop a bit of a chip on your shoulder. Leon led a team in to Russia with two goals in mind:

Find and extract the missing undercover agent.

Track down Ada Wong.

Maybe it was the fact that a fraction of his focus was elsewhere, or maybe it was just the universe finally deciding it was time to teach him a big, bad lesson. Whatever it was, Russia would become an event in Leon's life that would change everything for him – once again.

They had tracked down the missing Agent's last location. An island off of St Petersburg that had been turned in to a fort and bunker during the second world war. It was now overtaken and modified. Labs for what – as far as they could tell – was a syndicate with ties to Umbrella and Bio Weapon research. Everything had been going well, their stealth tactics infiltrating the base. Leon and his team had swept through it cleanly and swiftly, until they discovered they had been herded directly in to a trap. Sometimes, even the best laid plans aren't enough.

It was some kind of gas that knocked them out. When Leon woke, he had no idea how much time had passed, where he was, or what was happening. For a moment he thought he was blind, his eyes flickering open only to be confronted by darkness. It was only after a few steady breaths he realized there was a bag over his head. Some kind of thick, heavy sack material. The air hot and suffocating. He'd been through the training – of course he had. What to do when you were captured, how to make it through. But the reality of it is a lot different to a training situation, no matter how realistic they try to make it seem.

He manages to keep his breathing slow and steady. Despite the fact that he couldn't see, he assesses his situation. His hands were tied behind his back, what felt like a mix of thin rope and maybe cable ties. Plastic that dug in to the skin at his wrists. They'd stripped him of his tactical shirt and his body armor and he was bare from the waist up, the room was freezing cold. He still had on his combat pants, but his holsters and his boots were gone. His naked feet sat on cold cement floor, gritty and dirty. He couldn't sense anybody in the room with him, but that didn't necessarily mean there wasn't.

He's torn for a moment between asking if any of his team was in there with him, but it seems someone had spotted that he was awake by his movements. The sound of a heavy metal door opening almost hurts his ears in the silence. Footsteps, more than one set. He breathes in through his nose, doing his best to remain calm. As cold as ice.

The sacks ripped from his head and light blinds him, before he can make out a thing, a fist strikes him hard and heavy across the jaw. Once wobbles him, he spits out blood instantly, the second blow knocks him from the chair and he lands on the dusty, dirty floor. His breath kicking up dust as blood dribbles from the corner of his mouth and pools between his cheek and the cement. He blinks, getting his bearings. He could make out five pairs of feet around him. Then he's grabbed by the restraints and hauled up – face to face with a man's eyes. No features, he was covered by a balaclava. Part of Leon wanted to taunt him for being too much of a coward to show himself, face him man to man. But the logical part tells him to keep his fucking mouth shut.

"Name." His attacker demands in Russian.

Leon doesn't answer.

He takes repeated blows to the gut and two more to the opposite side of his face, ending up on the floor again before he's yanked back up. Again, they demand his name. Blood fills his mouth, and he spits it on the floor.

"What's the matter, can't read?" Leon retorts, finally. He shouldn't have, but they weren't getting anything but sarcasm out of him. Somewhere, he hears one of his team screaming in pain. It's a chilling sound. His attacker looks amused by his minor reaction. Leon eats another punch to the face, this one breaking his nose for sure. He staggers back, hits the wall and slides down it. Where his captor proceeds to kick him in the stomach repeatedly, until he's retching. He's fairly sure a rib cracks, maybe two. Breathing becomes hard.

"Name."

"Are you stupid?" he responds in Russian, "it was on my dog tag."

"Name."

This was a test, to see if he'd give up information. He doesn't.

He's beaten until he slips out of consciousness.

His captors put the bag back over his head and leave him there on the floor.

Leon has no idea how much time has passed and there's no opportunity to think about it. He's woken on his back, a bucket of ice cold water tipped over the bag on his head. It sticks the material to his face. Shocking, choking, suffocating. He gasps and kicks out at whoever might be around him, but hits nothing. His hands still tied underneath the bench they had him lying on. Someone holds the back of his head and his chest heaves, fighting for air. No chance to think, as a steady stream of ice water is poured over his mouth. Waterboarding, designed to make you feel like you were drowning, one of the nastier forms of torture. He battles his way through it, spitting the water against the sack covering his face. Gasping, spluttering. It's so fucking hard not to panic when you feel like you're dying.

"Name."

He gives them nothing. They repeat the process. He chokes on the water, his entire body fights against the restraints, the plastic ties digging in to his skin and cutting, he can feel the slick warmth of his blood on his hands. They stop, the sacks removed from his head and he gasps for air, looking up at the masked faces staring down at him.

"Give us your name and this ends."

"Suck my balls."

He laughs at them – its a kind of desperate, humorless thing. They put the sack back over his head. They drench him with more ice cold water. He chokes, he gasps, he fights. He gives them fucking nothing. When they finally decide he can't physically take any more without dying, they drag him to his knees and he's hauled back to the cell they held him in. He struggled to stay conscious, he could hear other screams of pain. He's thrown face first on to cold ground, the welcome embrace of unconsciousness takes him.

* * *

It had been a few days, at least. He was exhausted, starving, but at least he was hydrated. The waterboarding had gone another few rounds. He'd still given them nothing. He could no longer breathe through his nose, one eye was swollen shut and the other seemed a little fuzzy. He'd been beaten and cut, they'd taken a hammer to his ribs. Pain didn't quite cover it. He wakes this time sat in another chair, hands behind his back, stripped now to nothing but underwear. He shivers, it was so cold he could see his breath. Were they just going to give him hypothermia now?

Four people step in to the room. He slowly licks his lips, tasting nothing but blood and dirt. With his one working eye he takes in the people, one set of eyes – one set of eyes seemed so familiar. In his exhausted state, his brain was working slowly. Not really a surprise, they'd kicked him in the head enough times, he probably had swelling or some other terrible shit. Maybe he'd been brain dead by the time this was over and he wouldn't have to worry about Raccoon City memories anymore.

"You might as well kill me," he mumbles, his voice rasping, "I'm not giving you shit."

"Idiot American." Someone speaks up. "You come in to our country, in to our business, and think you won't pay the price?"

He can't see who said that, it came from behind him. But he slowly nods. "Think you got the wrong idea, we're just here for the Vodka."

"Funny."

A blade is stuck in to his ribs. Its sudden and sharp and agonizing, Leon can't help the wail of pain he lets out. He quickly gets hold of it, gritting his teeth, growling. His chest heaving.

"There's a hundred places I can stick this blade that wont cause you immediate death." His tormentor tells him, in English, but with a heavy Russian accent. "Shall we see how many of them we can get through before you cry like an infant?"

Leon grits his teeth. His fists clenching. He could feel the warmth of his blood trickling over cold skin.

"I'd rather you just get it over with. I'm missing my favorite TV show."

The blades driven in to a spot in his thigh, he yells through his teeth.

"That's two."

"Fuck you."

"Why are you here?" He's asked as the blade is driven in again, this time around the same entry point as the bullet scar in his shoulder. The pain was blinding, sharp and intense. "What do you know?"

Leon battles through the pain, it choked him, his body didn't even feel like his own anymore. It was ravaged and broken. Some part of him was beginning to feel numb. He licks his lips, tears leaking against his will from his one good eye. "I know..." he begins slowly, weakly, "that porcupines can float in water."

He withstands the drive of the blade through his flesh, he withstands the torture. Some part of his brain drifts away to another place, somewhere safe and warm, where he wasn't freezing cold and covered in his own blood. As he's kicked to the ground, he closes his eyes. It's Claire that he finds in that hazy world between the conscious and the unconscious. The smell of her sweet skin, the softness of her touch on his beaten body. That night, new years eve, becomes his place of escape.

He'd never been more gentle or careful about anything, as he'd rocked his hips and watched her beautiful face, kissing away the discomfort. Whispering to her, guiding her through. How it felt to be inside her, the sweet sounds she'd made. She'd given him something so precious.. she was half the reason he hadn't given up that day, back in Raccoon City.

"Leon?"

He blinks his one good eye as the whispered voice breaks in to his delirium. Was there finally a rescue party? Someone knew his name. So familiar.

A gentle hand rests on his hip.

"I don't have much time."

He forces his eye to focus. A figure dressed like the others crouched in front of him. She lifts her hand, pulling down the mask and revealing her face.

"Ada?!" he chokes on her name, taking her in. Her beautiful face, that dark hair framing it. She wasn't a ghost.. was she?

"You have to be quiet." She tells him, "they're watching."

"What's happening?"

"They think I'm a medic, shhhh."

He swallows, wondering if he's dreaming. She covers her face back up and proceeds to clean his wounds as he lies there, he was no use to them dead after all.

"My team."

"Alive." She replies quietly.

"How can I trust you? You're dead."

"Now is not the time for that conversation."

"You're working with Umbrella?" He persists.

"Hold out another 24 hours." She dabs the corner of his mouth with a cleaning solution that stings.

"How long has it been?"

"Four days." She rinses off a cloth in a bowl of water. He remains perfectly still, barely moving his mouth when he talked. He had no reason to trust her, she was supposed to be dead and here she was, deep in the heart of some insane Umbrella related stronghold. Yet for some reason, just like in Raccoon City – he did. "I managed to get out co-ordinates and details to your people." She whispers.

"Why are you helping me?"

She blinks and turns away, going through something in what looked like a briefcase. She turns back holding a syringe. He grits his teeth.

"I'll see you soon." She says quietly, leaning in and easing the needle in to his skin. He flinches. "Hang in there, Leon."

Darkness comes to collect.

* * *

Ever been woken up by a cattle prod? I don't recommend it. The electricity sears through Leon's body and he jolts from unconsciousness, screaming. The metal barbs dug in to his stomach and his body felt rigid, he couldn't move. Couldn't do anything but feel the intense shock of pain gripping his entire being. They take it away and his body sags, he takes in his situation. He was hanging by his arms, his wrists tied above him in a dark room with a single – hot light shining down on him. Naked now, exposed to the world. He hangs his head, getting his breath. He wished he was dead.

For the second time in his life, since the moment he'd considered putting a gun to his temple in Raccoon City – he wishes he was dead. He didn't want to do this anymore. He couldn't. After five days of no food, little water, and relentless torture he felt like his mind was close to breaking.

The tips of his toes scrape the ground and something about that made him feel all the more desperate. The tension in his shoulders from his entire bodyweight hanging was intense and painful, almost as bad as the shock. Being so close to the relief of being able to put your feet down was a torture in itself. So close, so far.

"This can end, Mr Kennedy." Someone says.

He breathes out a laugh, his head bobbing in a weary nod. "So you do know my name."

"And doesn't that make you feel stupid? We've tortured you for four days over information we already had, you might as well have given it up."

He sighs heavily, his lungs hurt. "What else do you want, my shoe size? Shirt size? Dick size?" he asks. His mouth tasted like metal, old dried blood caked inside and out. He'd lost a tooth in a beating days ago, but it was okay, it was one of the ones at the back.

"We already have all of those."

"Then what else do you want?" He manages to lift his head, taking in the people surrounding him. His eyes fall upon one and his heart thuds. It was Ada. She was watching this. He'd recognize her anywhere, even covered in arctic clothing. Her eyes. Had she lied to him? Was she really one of them, here to watch him suffer?

"We want everything you know."

He laughs, but its a limp sounding thing. "Our bodies are 90% water?" he rasps, "Almonds are a member of the peach family and John Lennons first girlfriend was Thelma Pickles."

They jam the cattle prod in to his ribs, right next to an infected wound.

He screams in pain. He couldn't keep it in anymore. He writhes and tries to get away from it, but there's no escape. When they pull it back he sags.

"You're not as funny as you think you are."

He nods. Tears run down his face.

"You want to die here?"

He sighs.

"We've already broken one of your team."

Leon lifts his head and looks at the talking tormentor. Had to be a bluff.

"Tell us what you know about the Raccoon City incident, the Birkins.."

He looks away.

"Tell us about Claire Redfield."

Leon's head jerks back up and his teeth grit together, glaring at them. "Fuck you."

There's a laugh. "Well that got a reaction. Is she your Achilles heel, Mr Kennedy?"

He growls, saying nothing. Glaring.

"Maybe we should find her, bring her in.." the cattle prod is tapped against him, but he isn't shocked. It makes him flinch and that pissed him off. "Rape her in front of you until you talk."

"I'll fucking kill you." Leon snarls.

"Kill the member of your team that sold you out. Told us who you are, what you've done. We know you have information that will be useful to us. It won't take us too long to have her found and brought here."

He tries to lunge toward the man making the threats. A sudden desperation and rage giving him an adrenaline kick. Of course he can do nothing, he can barely move. And to shut him up they jam that cattle prod in to the small of his back and he writhes and screams again.

Ada slowly unbuttons her arctic jacket, watching his horror unfold.

As she hits the last button, an alarm suddenly sounds in the underground bunker. Everybody in the room looking surprised. Leon slumps. Ada dips her hands inside her jacket and produces two silenced handguns.

She shoots everybody in the room. Perfect shots to the head. She rushes to Leon as the alarm blares through the bunker. Gunfire and yelling breaking out further down the halls. She aims and fires, shooting through the rope holding him up. He collapses to the floor and she crouches beside him. Using a knife to undo the fastenings holding his hands together.

"Leon, can you hear me?" She asks, gently touching his shoulder. "I need you to get up."

He groans.

"We have to go." She tells him, reaching over to one of the bodies she'd slain, she yanks the mans arctic jacket off, dragging it over and covering him. She taps his cheek. "Leon!"

He was dazed, his mind spinning. But he comes around to see her over him, the bodies scattered at his side.

"Ada?"

"Put this on." She nudges the jacket against him. "We need to go. Now."

He was exhausted, confused, wounded, dehydrated and starved. But somehow he gets to shaky feet. She helps him cover himself with the arctic jacket and she guides him out of the cell. Ada Wong rescues Leon from hell – again. He couldn't tell you how he makes it outside, how he ends up in the back of a chopper surrounded by US Military. When he comes around under the care of medics, she's gone. Nowhere to be seen. It all happened so fast.

Had he imagined her? Again?

"Ada?" he rasps. The thud of the helicopter blades hurt his head.

"Leon, don't try to move." A US Marine medic speaks gently to him. Administering an IV and fluids right there in the back of the rescue helicopter. He closes his eyes, his head was pounding. It felt like the worst hangover of his entire life, his whole body ached and throbbed. "I'm going to give you some antibiotics, it might make you nauseous."  
He just nods. It doesn't immediately hit him that the torture was over, that after five long days he'd somehow survived. If Raccoon City was a nightmare, then this had been a night terror. Paralysed, terrified. He grits his teeth to the urge to break down. He couldn't. Not yet.

* * *

He's returned to the United States and placed in a USSTRATCOM Medical facility. It takes a handful of days for the delirium of infection fever to die down and for him to completely come around. When he does, he's told only he and two other members of his team made it through the ordeal. And that one of them was a turncoat and had given up top secret information.

They had been sent detailed ground plans and locations of each of the team, by an 'anonymous source'. The Marines and a second USSTRATCOM team had been sent in to rescue them and shut that place down. Thanks to the information sent in by this mystery person.

Ada.

He knew it was Ada. But he tells them nothing. She hadn't been there when he'd woken up, so he knew she didn't want to be identified. She'd saved his life, she'd kept him going, he wouldn't sell her out or get her killed. To speak of her could blow any deep cover she was under, and though he didn't know who she was working for, all he needed to know was that she'd rescued him – again. She was alive, and she'd found him. He wouldn't be here if it wasn't for her.

He's released two days after returning to US soil. Given a leave of absence to recover from his injuries.

Leon couldn't settle. Sat in his small apartment a mere handful of days removed from getting tortured in a foreign country, he couldn't relax. He couldn't sleep. He couldn't get comfortable either. Every bit of his body hurt. The only place he felt a little respite was in a hot shower, it soothed the various wounds scattered around his body. Eased the burns courtesy of the cattle prod. As he stands in front of the mirror and gazes at himself, he doesn't recognize the man there. At least after Raccoon City he knew who was looking back at him in the reflection. Still Leon, just a Leon is shock. A Leon discovering there was true horror in the world. A little more wary, a little older and wiser and shaken up.

Now?

He closes his one good eye, looking down in to the sink at the bowl of pinkish water. He'd been washing out his mouth, the lost tooth near the back still bled a little. He needed to see a dentist.

He runs a hand under his broken nose and his shoulders tremor.

"Get it together." He mutters to himself in a breath. He couldn't fall apart. That wasn't who he was. He wished he could talk to her, wished he could thank her for getting him out. For keeping him going. For risking her life in the belly of the beast to get him out. If they'd discovered what she was doing they'd have killed her for sure. He just wanted to speak to her – but there was no earthly way for him to make contact.

Leon yanks the plug from the sink and grabs a towel, drying himself off and looking back at his reflection. He looked a fucking wreck. One eye swollen shut, the side of his cheek welted and bruised. His torso was blackened, he had fractured ribs and multiple knife wounds in precision places, places that weren't life threatening or even particularly damaging. Just painful. Lucky him.

Why did people always say when you survived something like that, you were 'lucky'?

There's a knock at the door and he hears it. Usually Cooper answered the door.

Cooper hadn't made it back from Russia.

Leon closes his eye, sighing. He pulls on some comfortable sweatpants, moving like an old woman, and he shuffles through the small apartment as another knock comes. "I'm coming!" he raises his voice, it was raspy. His throat still sore and hoarse from all the screaming he'd done, not to mention the waterboarding. He reaches the door and opens it.

Claire.

She lifts her hand over her mouth as she looks at him standing there, beaten and bruised. Tears welling in her eyes. "Oh my God.." She breathes.

"What are you..?" How did she know he was home?

She steps up to him and carefully moves her arms around his neck, tentative, like she was scared he would shatter. For a moment he doesn't know what to do, shocked she was there. Surprised. Relieved. His arms gently move around her In return, gathering her to him and holding on to her like he'd drown without her.

"Chris told me what happened.." She explains in a whisper beside his ear, her hand coming up to rest at the back of his head. "I had to come."

He closes his eyes, burying his face in her neck and breathing her in.

His home. His calm in the storm.

She came.


	6. Clair de Lune (Moonlight)

**Authors Note:** Get yourself something to cuddle.. is love any less messy than violence?

* * *

 **He comes undone**  
 **Says he's lost the map his life was on**  
 **Says everything is unraveling**  
 **I take his hand**  
 **And then I kiss him like the world is ending and say**  
 **"Where logic ends, faith begins"**

 **And I'm wondering if we just try and risk everything for love**  
 **How can we ever go wrong**  
 **Embrace this life**  
 **Every punch and kiss on this wild ride**  
 **The end could be a moment away**  
 **We're strong enough**

 **\- Bird York**

* * *

 **Present Day**

Leon leans his hands against the bathroom sink counter and gazes at his own reflection in the mirror. Funny what time did to you. The lines it gave you, the scars you ended up wearing on your skin. It was a little like leaving graffiti on your own body, a stamp or two to say 'I was here, and I lived'. Leon's body told a tale – a noir comic book in scar tissue. Everywhere he looked there was something, a grim reminder of the past, a battle fought and won – or lost. So many memories, it was a bit of a shame your body couldn't wear the marks of the good ones, though he supposed a tattoo could do that. He'd often contemplated getting a tattoo to remember her by, but he didn't suppose his wife would take too kindly to it. She might understand the grief and loss he still felt, but she likely didn't want it rubbed in her face, they'd been rivals for his heart after all.

He hated that thought, that it had been some kind of competition to win him. Win over his heart. That it had been a choice. Truth was he'd loved them both and in all honesty, if she was still alive, he likely never would have settled down. How could you, when you were torn in to two halves? They both had a piece of him and would forever. One of them quite literally, she had carried his child. She hadn't told him. He'd gotten her pregnant and she'd gone through it alone, hidden it, never said a word. Why? He didn't know. Maybe it was their lifestyle, maybe she thought he wouldn't want it when she did. Maybe it was the age old excuse he'd heard a thousand times – the world needed him, no time for him to have a life. Maybe she'd found out he'd gotten back from their vacation and ended up back in her rivals bed – she knew he'd never settle down. Maybe it was bitterness. He didn't know, there could be a thousand reasons why she never told him she was pregnant – but he wished she had.

He wished he could have been there for the birth of his baby girl. Could have helped her. But wishes – just like regrets – were pointless. Got you nowhere in the end.

He'd changed a lot over the years, yet not really changed at all. His hair still hung over his eyes, sitting at around the same length as his nose now, the tips tickled it when he hung his head forward. He wore a few days of stubble that covered the scar on his cheek. He also suited the lines in his forehead, his wife called him a fine wine. Apparently he wore his age well also – he just thought he looked kinda tired.

He gazes at the scar on his shoulder, originally a gunshot wound sustained in Raccoon City – his great debut in to the world of Bio Organic Terror. It had been made worse in Russia when his captor had driven the blade of a knife through the damaged tissue. He closes his eyes to the memory, that event still echoed in his head to this day. Some of his worst nightmares saw him hanging by his hands as they drove that electrical charge in to his skin, its a feeling you never forget. He could feel it now, if he thought hard enough, even all these years later.

That mission had taught him a kind of humility. He'd been so full of bullshit and bravado, brimming with testosterone. What was that saying? Young, dumb and full of.. well, you get the idea. That had been Leon Kennedy in the first year. Thought he knew it all, thought he was untouchable, invincible, a prodigy, future savior of the world. He'd thought he was single handedly going to win this war – he was just that fucking good. Russia had taught him that no matter how much of a badass you were, there was always someone waiting to take you down. Someone bigger, scarier, more ruthless. It taught him that sometimes mistakes were made without even knowing they were mistakes, that one error in judgment could cost you dearly. It taught him that no matter how well you planned something, chaos reigned. Anything could happen, your worst nightmares could spring out of the shadows and grab you unprepared.

No matter how good you were, you couldn't always see what was coming around the corner.

Adapt. Survive.

Russia had taught Leon that your greatest weapon wasn't a gun or how quickly you could reload it, but your heart and your will to survive. Endure. And your ability to adapt to the world around you. Your greatest weapon was your spirit, and your ability to remain calm. If you could do that, you could see your way through anything. It was a lesson that would serve him well when he went up against the Los Illuminados cult in Spain. He'd taken nothing for granted, he'd approached it with respect, he'd practically meditated his way through four days of relentless battle and survival. Remain calm, reload, don't panic. You've already been through the worst thing that can happen to you, so just breathe.

After Russia he knew how much he could take. A tough life lesson to learn, one he didn't recommend to anybody. But a lesson nonetheless.

He lifts his hand from the edge of the sink and turns it over, running the fingers of his other hand over a scar in the middle of his forearm. They'd driven a blade right through, it hit nothing, nothing life threatening anyway. But he remembered the pain of it. And he remembered Claire.. lightly tracing her fingertips over it, a sadness in her eyes as she lay beside him.

"Penny for them.." his wife's voice brings him out of his memories and he looks up in to the mirror, seeing her arrive behind him. Her hand slips around his middle, resting on his bare stomach. He still kept in shape, even retired. Never knew when the end of the world might come knocking.

Her pregnant belly presses gently against his back and he smiles, covering her hand with his. "Putting that book together for Lily just.. got me thinking about the past, that's all." He says quietly. She rests her cheek against his shoulder, hugging him a little.

"Wish I could take it away." She whispers.

His lips upturn in a wistful little smile, a small nod of his head. "I should go put her to bed."

"She's already asleep," she answers, tilting her face and kissing between his shoulders.

"Tired her out at the park," he chuckles softly.

"Who even knew that was possible." She muses.

He turns, slipping his hands over her tummy and sliding them around to the small of her back. He presses a kiss to her forehead as she leans against him. "I love you." He murmurs.

She looks up to him, her hands drifting over his bare chest. "I love you too."

The response widens his smile and he draws his palms back around, stroking over her belly, feeling the responsive kick of their baby. "Are you happy?" he asks her quietly.

She frowns, looking at him curiously. "Of course I am. Are you?"

He dips his chin, nodding. "I think.. everything worked out like it was supposed to. And.. even she knew that." It's hard to admit, but there it was.

His wife gently rubs his arms, and then lowers her hands to his, taking them and linking their fingers. Silence for a while, it wasn't always easy. They'd both seen and done a lot of things in their lives and the decisions of that day could never be changed. Fate.. right?

Things worked out like they were supposed to.

"Come to bed." She whispers. It was barely 9pm, but sleep isn't what's on their mind.

She leads him back in to their bedroom and they lovingly undress one another. With her, he could always outrun the past. She just took it all away. Always.

* * *

 **January 26th, 2000**

 **Nebraska**

Seeing him like that when he'd opened the door had shaken something inside her. She'd seen him injured before, she'd seen him sad and struggling. But she'd never seen anybody in the physical state he was in. It was jarring, a cold hard reality of what he now did for a living. A job he hadn't even chosen – nothing but fate and circumstance driving him in to it. He'd told her how they'd threatened him, told him that joining their war was his 'only choice'. It sounded terrifying. She'd often wondered what would have happened if she'd stayed, if she'd not chosen to run and keep the search for her brother going. Would they have forced a 19 year old in to their battle too?

Not that she wasn't a part of it. She still nursed her own scars, she still remembered the fear of being captured in Paris. Of not knowing what was going to happen to her. It's a hopeless, helpless feeling you can't describe. She'd ended up in the thick of another bout of madness on Rockfort Island. Ultimately, she'd emerged unscathed. Nothing but bad memories and a few scrapes – somehow.

She couldn't imagine what he'd gone through. To be held, stripped of your defenses, and tortured for information you might not even have.

Chris had heard through the grapevine that a team had been captured in Russia. He'd looked in to it and discovered that one of them was Leon. After the man had helped him locate and rescue his sister, he couldn't help but feel like he owed him one. But there had been nothing he could do, the US Marines had it in hand. Sometimes you just had to send in pure overpowering force. He'd mentioned it to Claire – and here she was. She knew he'd need someone, he had nobody, and she had to see for herself that he alright.

But he wasn't alright. Not at all.

She carefully tucks some of his long hair back from his eyes and gently dabs a wound at his eyebrow with a cleaning solution. She could do this. She couldn't take the memories, but she could help him heal.

"You don't have to do this." He says quietly, the two of them sitting on the floor in the living room of his tiny Nebraska apartment.

"I want to." She answers him simply, getting a fresh cotton pad and dousing it in the solution. He doesn't complain, it felt nice to have a gentle hand on him, soothing the ache. He sits quietly as she takes care of him, changing dressings on the wounds that had required them, applying antiseptics to the burns. She was fearless with this stuff, not grossed out at all. A healer, through and through. "How long a leave did they give you?" She asks as she stuffs old dressings in to a bag.

"Two weeks, then I have to have a psych and physical assessment." He answers with a small shrug.

"That's not very long." She sounded concerned.

"Well, doesn't mean they'll clear me. Just a check up." He explains.

"And what about in the meantime, you're just.. left?"

"Got a few things they want me to attend." He was vague, what he meant was that they were forcing him in to some post trauma therapy. It wasn't something he particularly wanted to admit. She studies him.

"Tortured for your country and then just left to fend for yourself." She sounded disgusted. But it makes him blink.

"What else are they gonna do, have a babysitter here all day?" He asks.

She rolls a bit of gauze in her hand and stares at it sadly, shrugging. "I don't know, just seems like there should be something more."

"Not much more they can do. Just.. something I gotta deal with." He reasons.

With a heavy sigh she finishes packing the medical supplies away and then sits on her knees. "And how are you dealing with it?"

"Right now I'm focusing on the physical." He turns over his forearm, looking at the bandage wrapped around a knife wound there. "Maybe once I'm not feeling like I got run down by a truck I'll be able to process the rest of it."

"Is that even something a person can process?"

"What choice do I have?"

"You're a stronger human being than me, Leon Kennedy."

"It's not a competition." He says with a small smile, reaching out and brushing his thumb over her cheek. She looks at him curiously and he breathes a little laugh, showing her the dab of antiseptic cream she'd somehow gotten on her face.

"How on earth?" she laughs at herself. She was clumsy, clutzy, and always getting things on her face.

"I'm just gonna start following you around with a towel." He chuckles. It hurts his lungs and his messed up ribs, but it still felt good to laugh.

"Change of career, keeping me clean." She muses, then seems to realize what she said, eyeing him a little and laughing softly.

He wipes the cream off on a piece of tissue and gives her a thoughtful look in return. "Not sure if that's a job I'd wanna succeed or fail at."

She blushes, looking away. Her cheeks flushing bright crimson. Adorable. He smiles.

"How are you still embarrassed by me?" He asks.

"Hm? What? I'm not? I don't know what you're talking about." She gets to her feet, taking the bag of trash in to the kitchen and dumping it in the bin.

To tease or not to tease? He considers this for a moment. He should behave. Because despite the fact that the last time he'd seen her she'd trusted him with the most precious thing a girl could, he didn't know what that meant now. He'd told her there was no fairytale here, and that was likely the truth. How could you commit to something when half the time you weren't even in the country? When you ran the risk of being ripped apart by monsters or dying in a gunfight almost daily? Nobody could be in a relationship with that – and what's more, he was too fucking young for that word. He'd done relationships, he'd had one, one where he thought he was going to marry the girl. It had ended horribly, soul crushingly, the worst feeling in the world. He didn't want to do that again, ever if at all possible. Relationships were for 32 year olds, not 22 year olds.

So what happened now? Was it done, back to just friends? Or..

Not that it mattered, not right this second. He was in too much pain for any of that anyway. But as he watches her, he can't help but wonder.

That night, they order Chinese and watch a movie. She sleeps in his bed, curled up against him. No funny stuff. Not a hand out of place. Just friendship and comfort. In the middle of the night he's plagued by nightmares, reliving memories. She wakes as he groans to her side, his body flinching. She winces for him, resting a soothing hand on his chest. Wishing she could take some of it away so he could at least get some sleep.

"Ada.. I need you.." he mumbles.

Claire blinks, drawing her hand back and looking at him with a frown on her face. Ada? Was he dreaming about Raccoon City? Still beating himself up over her death? She watches him, listening for more, but eventually he settles and seems to drift back in to a more peaceful state. She however, was awake and in need of the bathroom. So she carefully climbs out of his bed and heads there. Washing her hands after, she pads in to the kitchen to get a glass of water. Pouring it and taking a sip, she notices a file sitting tucked away on the counter. She was a nosy, curious person. It had helped her through a few sticky situations, but it had also gotten her in to some.

She takes the folders and pulls them over to her, sipping from her glass as she reads the cover of the first. Mission brief for Russia. Details on the woman they were supposed to be extracting. She lifts it and takes in the cover of the next. It makes her pause, looking toward his bedroom. She frowns and flips it open, finding a photograph pinned to a document.

"She's alive?" Claire murmurs, placing her glass down.

She reads.

Ada Wong. A codename. Likely a spy – who for? Nobody knew. She was alive. Her last known location? Russia.

She feels her stomach flip flop a little bit.

But if the woman was alive that was a good thing, right? It meant he could stop beating himself up over her death. Meant he could finally move on and not think about it anymore. Only, he was evidently dreaming about her. Claire bites her lip, putting the folders back where they came from and standing for a moment, thinking. It wasn't any of her business anyway, was it. He wasn't hers. He'd made that quite clear. She didn't know if there would ever be anything between them beyond that one night and friendship. If he wanted Ada..

There was nothing to suggest he wanted Ada – although the woman was utterly, breathtakingly gorgeous and not some skinny plain Jane redhead. He was allowed to feel bad about the woman's death – or not death. She rubs her forehead, she was tired after the travel and now she was locked in a battle with jealousy. She couldn't be jealous of someone she knew nothing about and that he hadn't even shown any interest in. She couldn't be jealous when he wasn't hers anyway. Get a grip, Redfield. You promised him this wouldn't get messy, just because you made him your first.

And second. The second time around that night was even better than the first, she was more relaxed, more in to it. He'd made her see stars.

She downs the last of the water and heads back to his bedroom. When she crawls somewhat timidly under the covers with him, he turns and wraps his arm around her. Holding her.

Right here was where she felt the safest.

But pressed against the warmth of his body, she felt more than just safe. She felt a want. The same need she'd felt when he kissed her on new years eve. A kind of ache in her heart and between her legs. It's an intense, overwhelming feeling and it worries her. Please God, don't be falling in love.

* * *

They spend the week together. She clears out her schedule and tells work she needed to take care of a badly injured friend. She helps him with his wounds and tries to distract him from getting too caught up in the memories that echoed around his brain. She doesn't mention Ada.

By the seventh day, he has both of his eyes back. His depth perception returning which was a relief. The bruises had gone past their worst stage and were beginning to recede. Wounds healed over, now just the process of regenerating. The body was pretty incredible, really. It could take a lot. It gave Leon a kind of newfound respect for what a human being could endure and recover from. And Claire helped with the memories. There had been a couple of bad nights, a couple where he'd woken up in a cold sweat. Two nights ago, he'd woken up in to a full blown panic attack. Hyperventilating. She'd calmed him down. Held on to him and kept him grounded. He wouldn't have made it without her.

On day six he'd had one of his therapy sessions. Now, he had decided to pay a visit to his father. Taking Claire with him. It's only as he gets up to the front door of his childhood home that he realizes what he's about to do. Glancing at her standing at his side. He's about to introduce her to his parents – well, parent. His Mother had died when he was 17.

He slides his key into the lock and pushes the door open, gesturing for her to go inside. Ever the gentleman.

It was a pretty large house, back in the day both of his parents had had pretty high profile and very well paid jobs. But when his brother Michael died, it had all kind of fallen apart. Still, the house remained in the family, he'd likely inherit it one day. Though quite what he'd do with it he didn't know, it wasn't like he was about to have a family of his own to fill it up with. He wasn't even sure that was a thing he wanted 'in the future'. What kind of Dad could he possibly be? Spent a lifetime killing, not exactly a role model.

"Wow, this place is.. wow.." Claire looks around as she steps in to a kind of small foyer. It had marble tile floor and led to a staircase, with antique looking tables on either side, both dressed with vases. Nothing in those vases, his Mother used to keep flowers in them, but that was a thing of the past. His Father was only interested in keeping the liquor cabinet stocked these days.

Leon drops his bag down and looks around. Was just his plain old childhood home, to him.

"Is this.." she steps toward a photograph on the wall and he sticks his hands in the pockets of his jeans, moving up behind her. "My brother."

"Holy crap, you look so much like him." She leans in closer, inspecting the picture.

Leon smiles a little. "Yeah I kinda janked his look after he died."

She turns him a sympathetic little look and nods. "I'm sorry."

He shrugs. "Is what it is, y'know?"

She agrees. She knew about loss. She and Chris had lost both of their parents in an accident when she was very young. She barely had any real memories of them to go on, probably why Chris was so hyper protective of her these days. "Your Mom?" she asks, looking at another photo.

He sighs. "Yup. She used to sell real estate, I think that was like.. her business card photo." He chuckles, looking at the photograph of his smiling mother. He missed her.  
"Dad?!" he calls out into the house to no response. Then looks to Claire. "Might be in the yard."

She follows him through the house and sure enough they find his Father in the back yard, attempting to rake up some leaves. "Dad," he calls from the back door. His Father looks up and smiles when he sees him, putting the rake aside and coming over. They greet each other with a hand shake and a hug, and then his dad turns his attention to Claire.

"Well, Leon hasn't brought a girl back since – what was her name?"

Leon rolls his eyes, "Maria."

"That's it. Strange girl, I think she was trying to look like Morticia Adams." He chuckles, shaking Claire's hand enthusiastically. "You're a definite upgrade."

Leon narrows his eyes. Claire laughs good naturedly. "That's kind of you, but we're not.."

His Father looks between them. "Oh, you're not?"

Leon flashes her a look, then shrugs. "Just friends. She was in Raccoon City with me."

"Ohhhh." His Father gives an understanding smile. "Well, I'm glad you made it out safely." He finally releases Claire's hand and turns to Leon. Inspecting his son, the smile fading.

"What did they do to you?" He sighs.

Leon makes a bit of a face, shaking his head. "Doesn't matter. I'm still here."

"You're my son, obviously I'm going to worry." He tuts.

"I know. But I'm alright. Really."

Claire watches as Leon reassures his Father he's okay. It's sweet, and so very him. He never seemed to want anybody to worry about him, the only person he ever let do so, was her. The thought makes her tummy flutter a little. That feeling that kept rising in her so often now.

She follows them through to the kitchen as they talk. His Dad insisting they stay there and not get a hotel. There were five bedrooms, she was welcome to her own if they were 'just friends'. She shares a look with Leon over the counter. It's one she can't quite make out. Just friends that slept together - but actually slept. What a strange arrangement. Maybe she should just take her own room.

It's a nice day. Its interesting to learn a little more about him and where he came from. Leon was always so closed off when it came to his life and to the thoughts that went on in that handsome head of his. So getting to hear a bit more direct from one of his parents felt like a special and rare insight. She's even shown a few photographs from his childhood. He was an insanely cute child, but was that really a surprise? Leon's red faced with embarrassment after his father brings out a photo album. Telling her stories of the mischief he used to get in to when he was little.

Leon ends up sat at the seat of his Mothers old grand piano, hiding his face as photos from his 'I want to be in a band' phase are brought up. His Father excuses himself shortly after, leaving Claire with the pictures. It was getting late.

She sits and leafs through them, turning a big smile to him.

"The rockstar hair really suits you." She grins.

"I look like a whole idiot." He lifts his head from his hands, chuckling.

"Nooo, I like it. It's kinda.. part biker part glam rock."

"There is nothing glam rock about that." He snorts, sitting up and running his hand over the polished surface of the piano.

"Needed more studs." She says thoughtfully, turning the page. She looks at him. "Can you play that?"

He glances at her, then to the piano. "This? Uh huh. Kinda." He brushes a little dust from the keys, rubbing it between his fingers. Less than fourteen days ago he'd been inhaling dust on the floor of a Russian cell, awaiting his next round of torture. Now he was wiping it off of a grand piano. Life was really strange sometimes.

"Can you do chopsticks?" She asks.

He laughs under his breath, nodding. "I don't know if its tuned. Don't think anyone's played it in years."

"Play something!" she encourages.

"It might sound like shit."

"I don't care. I've always wanted to play an instrument. Show me!"

"You want me to teach you?" He asks.

She gets to her feet, crossing over to join him, she sits beside him on the little bench, he moves over to fit her in. "Alright then, Heart & Soul." He lifts his hand to the keys and rather effortlessly plays the first notes of the classic song.

"I know that! That's the tune from 'Big'" She grins.

He nods. Showing her slowly, he gives her the repeating melody. Simple enough to learn. It makes her laugh, though, as she messes it up a few times. He's endlessly patient, he was a really good teacher. Eventually, she has the repeating tune down, and he looks at her with a smile on his face, waiting for his cue to join in.

When he hits the higher note and comes in, the song becomes complete. She looks at him wide eyed, they were actually doing music. And she wasn't messing it up. He grins. "See? Easy."

She giggles, they repeat the tune for a little while longer, until she slips up a key and brushes his hand as it hit keys close to hers. They come to a stop and she smiles, pleased with herself.

"What else can you do?" She asks.

He looks thoughtful, it had been a long damn time since he'd actually done anything on the piano. His Mom used to make him take lessons all through his childhood, right up until Michael died. He hitches a shoulder. "Well, was my Mom that made me play the piano. This was her favorite."

He cracks his knuckles and Claire moves aside a little, letting him take over. He sighs. "If I fuck this up don't laugh at me."

"As if I would." She nudges him.

He nods. Hands on the keys. A deep breath.

Its Clair de Lune, by Debussy. Of course, Claire has no idea what the song is called as he plays it.

As she listens and watches him play this soulful, sorrowful tune that sounded like the piano had lost something that it loved, she feels a lump well up in her throat. How did he know how to do this? A savage warrior, a trained killer, the man that got her through one of the worst days of her life. And he could do this. Where the hell had Leon Kennedy come from and who had sent him across her path?

He comes to a stop after a while, gesturing at the keys and clearing his throat. "It starts to get really complicated, and my arms kinda hurt." He says, looking up at her. He frowns. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." She smiles back at him. "That was just.."

"Called Clair de Lune." He explains, when she doesn't find words. "Means 'Moonlight'. Kinda like you.. always lighting my way." He laughs softly.

She takes a deep breath.

She was in love.

And this was bad.

* * *

 _ **Music: Heart & Soul (Piano) - Look up Claire and Leons version via Toddiew on Youtube**_

 _ **Clair de Lune by Debussy. On youtube under CHANNEL3YOUTUBE**_


	7. The Storm Has Just Begun

**Authors Note:** Alright, you were all warned this was a dramatic love story.. let the mess begin! And don't worry. Ada will be along soon ;)

* * *

 **After I have traveled so far**  
 **We'd set fire to the third bar**  
 **We'd share each other like an island**  
 **Until exhausted, close our eyelids**  
 **And dreaming, pick up from**  
 **The last place we left off**  
 **Your soft skin is weeping**  
 **A joy you can't keep in**

 **I'm miles from where you are,**  
 **I lay down on the cold ground**  
 **And I, I pray that something picks me up**  
 **and sets me down in your warm arms**

 **\- Snow Patrol**

* * *

The first night at his fathers house they take separate rooms, and for Claire it's actually something of a relief. Her realization as she'd watched him play that beautiful piece on the piano had shaken her, set in a mild panic in her stomach. It was definitely love. She was definitely in love with Leon Kennedy, and that was really.. really bad. Because she knew that it was likely something that would never be. Her stupid heart had betrayed her, she'd promised herself she wouldn't develop feelings beyond friendship. She'd told herself on new years eve that she couldn't let it become anything more.

But it was definitely more. She cared about him deeply, and she supposed most friends cared a lot about each other. But lately, when he was near, she felt more than just that. She felt crazy, physical things that made her want and yearn for him. She looked at him and her stomach filled with butterflies. He touched her and her heart would flip flop around like a fish out of water. She even found herself thinking about him in quiet moments, and not in a PG way. Daydreaming about him. His weight on top of her, between her legs, how he'd felt inside her. It made her tingle all over, and want it again.

But he didn't want her. He was adamant they were just friends. He'd told her that night that it couldn't be anything more.

So her own space was good. It was a chance to breathe and collect her thoughts, to tell herself off for these feelings. Give herself a pep talk.

It backfired, though. As the next day he noticed something was up, he noticed the change in her and the way she seemed to avoid getting close to him. It was a rainy, thundery day and they were stuck indoors, watching the storm ripple over the mountains and soak the grounds. They sat in his room – it had the best view in the house – and she lay on her side on his bed, her cheek propped up by her knuckles, watching him as he sat across from her and strummed his old guitar. She never would have imagined he was musical, but between the piano and this, she'd learned a lot about him in just a couple of days.

He seemed to be doing a little better. His injuries healing well and a couple of nights decent rest. Coming home had been good for him apparently. She supposed really, she could probably leave him now. Return to her own life, rescue her heart. Maybe she needed to meet someone else. But other men had always scared her, the idea of having to get to know someone, having to learn to trust someone new. It was all daunting to her.

She rests her head down on her arm, closing her eyes. The sound of the rain on the window and the thunder rumbling far away was so relaxing. The soft strum of his guitar, and the way he hummed 'Somewhere over the rainbow'.. peaceful.

Leon watches her, his fingers lightly plucking at the strings as he hums. She'd seemed distant today, maybe she was just tired. He didn't sleep too well in new places on the first night either.

After a while, he's fairly sure she's sound asleep. He sits up and carefully – quietly puts his guitar aside, getting to his feet and picking up a blanket from a chair, he covers her with it and then crosses his childhood bedroom. Picking up a whiskey flask from the inside of his leather jacket, he sits in the window seat and drinks, watching the storm and thinking. His body still ached, the after effects of what he'd been through still tormenting him. Alcohol helped a little, the burn of it centered him. Numbed the sharper pains. He tried not to drink too much around Claire, he didn't want her to worry more than she already did.

He looks down at the flask in his hand, fiddling with the cap. Another few days and he'd have to return to Nebraska and the base, go through his physical and psych tests. He wonders if he'll be cleared and if he is, where they'll send him next. What new horror will have sprung up while he was out of commission. What terrible thing was going to happen to him.

He blinks and knocks back another gulp of whiskey. He couldn't think like that. If he thought like that then he'd walk in to the next battle in hesitation and hesitation got you killed. He couldn't let this do anything more than motivate him. Better him. Take it as a lesson learned. Never underestimate your opponent. He draws in a deep breath and leans his head against the glass of the window, looking out at the mountains. What if he'd just slept through Raccoon City? Where would he be now if he'd obeyed his hangover and decided just to hell with it. Picked a new life path.

He was pretty sure he wouldn't know how it felt to be tortured, that was for sure.

A little shiver runs up his spine and he grits his teeth together, then swallows down another mouthful.

Ada. He hoped she was okay, wherever she was. Hoped she'd gotten out of that situation without ramifications. That saving him hadn't gotten her killed. He wanted so desperately to speak to her. If only he had her number or some way to contact her – to thank her. To ask her what the hell happened in Raccoon City. Why she'd faked her death, why she'd kissed him, why so many things. Had she really been in New York after all? Had she just run from him? So many questions. This beautiful mystery woman – he didn't even know her real name. But she was the most gorgeous thing he'd ever seen and if there was one thing he wanted more than anything, it was to thank her. For everything. He hoped he'd get to, some day.

On the bed, Claire suddenly jolts awake with a cry that makes him jump. Looking over to her with a frown as she clutches her chest and seems utterly panicked for a moment. He puts down the flask and gets to his feet, crossing over to her, concerned. He perches on the edge of the bed and gently rests a hand on her hip. It makes her flinch and look at him like – for a second – she didn't know who he was.

"Claire, its me.." he says gently.

She blinks, the fog of nightmares beginning to lift. A tear trickles down her cheek.

"Hey.." he frowns, "what's the matter?"

She looked so utterly lost. "Bad dream." She murmurs after a moment.

He understood. "Wanna tell me about it?"

"I was just.. on that island. And I couldn't.." she trails off. She couldn't find the words, and God did he know how that felt.

"Can I do anything?" he asks softly.

She reaches for him, an unspoken request. He goes gladly, tucking himself in behind her and wrapping his arm around her, encasing her in safety. She never felt safer than right there. She leans her back against his chest, he tucks his knees behind hers. His comforting warmth chasing the nightmares away.

His thumb lightly brushes back and forth over the back of her hand and she lies there gazing at it, her racing heart beginning to slow. For as many nightmares of his as she'd soothed, he'd done the same for her. How could she not love him?

She scrunches her eyes shut and tries to make it go away, unwittingly letting out a small mew of a sound as she does. She feels him move behind her, holding her a little closer. Thinking she was still suffering from her dream, when in fact she was trying to chase her feelings away.

"You're alright," he murmurs against her hair, "its over now."

She can't stop herself. She turns in his arms and brings her hand to his cheek, their eyes meeting for the briefest moment. An unspoken question that ends in a kiss. A kiss that moves quickly from comfort to passion. She's careful with him, he still nursed injuries but his strength was returning daily. Clothing comes away piece by piece until they're left in only their underwear. He moves over her, nudging her legs apart with his knees and kissing her neck, making her arch under him, moaning softly.

He can't help his slight chuckle as he returns to her lips. "Shhh." He whispers against them, kissing her, "don't wanna get caught." For the first time since he was a damn teenager he found himself having to be quiet so as not to alert his parent. Its a strange rush, like they were sharing a naughty secret. Her nightmares forgotten, his injuries set aside. Nothing but each other. And he doesn't make keeping quiet easy on her, as he journeys his way southward, ridding her of that final, flimsy barrier and tossing her panties somewhere across the room. He kisses along the inside of her thigh and she watches him, her breath coming in quick pants of anticipation.

He introduces her to a whole new sensation. Another first claimed, as he used his mouth and his tongue to take her to the edge. Her hands stroke through his hair, she bites her lip hard to keep from making a noise. But when it gets to be too much she ends up with one hand covering her mouth, muffling herself as he makes her see stars.

As she recovers, he gets them protected, and when she drops her hand from her face he gently takes her.

It's slow and gentle, savoring the good feelings that cancelled out the pain and the nightmares in both of them for now. She clings to him, moves with him, tucks her ankles behind his thighs and coaxes him on. They kiss, muffle one another's moans, and when it breaks she gazes up at him. Their eyes meeting as they move together. She was so in love it was scary – but she had no idea if he felt anything at all.

* * *

 **July 2002**

 **Houston, Texas**

Leon was cleared and returned to active duty one month after his ordeal in Russia. Claire had returned to Chicago for college and work when he'd made the trip back to Nebraska. They kept in contact – as always – but he didn't see her again for quite some time. His Superiors had him back in action and back in the field, fighting the fight. This time, he felt a little older and wiser, he approached his missions with a different kind of mindset. He was still bold and brave, but he had a newfound respect for chaos theory, and for never taking your opponent for granted.

In the year and a half since Russia, he took out three major black market dealers and took out an Umbrella stronghold building in Mexico. He spent a lot of time overseas, they stationed him for a while in England investigating more tendrils of Umbrella. He built his reputation, back on his game.

In July of 2002 he was sent to South America deep in to the Amazon Jungle with a muscle mountain named Jack Krauser. A special ops soldier that didn't know how to be anything but a soldier. It was an interesting learning experience, working with someone who's life had been dedicated to the cause a lot longer than Leon had. It made him wary of letting this war get too deep in to his head – Krauser was a hell of a soldier, but he'd lost some of his humanity along the way. Leon vowed that would never happen to him, if he stopped caring, then what was the point?

The mission was considered a success, the Bio threat neutralized – the bad guy taken out. But so often these successes came at great costs, to the people that lived in those places and to the men that carried them out. Leon returned to a military base in Houston, Texas in a state of reflective melancholy. So often the victims of these situations were innocents, the teenage girl he'd met on the mission left a mark in his mind. Nobody deserved that. But he feared that was one part of the war he'd never be able to put an end to. Monsters always targeted the vulnerable. Manuela's father may have had good intentions, wanting to save her from degenerative illness – but as always, the power that came with playing God did nothing but corrupt.

A fine line to walk. How far do you go to save the people you love?

Leon was lost in that conundrum as they disembark the chopper to the usual flurry of handshakes and pats on the back. He attends his debrief in quiet contemplation, and is then released for a two week leave. He had one thought on his mind. See Claire.

He digs out his phone as he heads to his hotel and looks up her number, giving her a call. Usually she answered swiftly, but this time it just rings and eventually switches to voicemail. He hangs up, he hated leaving voice messages and doesn't bother, instead he picks up his room key from the front desk and heads up, letting himself in and dumping his things down he sits on the edge of the bed and sends her a message instead. He hadn't seen her in six months, the last time had been pretty brief, a single night in Chicago before he flew to Washington. She had a place there now, a little apartment across from the college she was attending. They'd met up, had drinks and pizza.. and sex. He missed her.

That's not to say he hadn't been with other women in the interim. He had. But Claire was different. She was home. She meant something. Sex with her was an entirely different thing.

Leon gets up and showers, leaving his phone on the bed. When he returns with a towel wrapped around his waist, there's no returned message. It makes him frown. She usually responded petty quickly. He orders room service – eats and drinks. Still nothing. He wasn't one to chase, not really. But he had an odd feeling and worries maybe she'd gotten caught up in something terrible. After ringing her again, he calls Chris.

"Redfield."

"Chris, its Leon."

"Oh hey, long time. How's it going?"

"Just got back from some outbreak cleanup in the Amazon."

"I heard about that."

Leon nods. "Always something somewhere, huh."

"You got that right. What can I do for ya?" Chris asks.

"Actually, just wondered if everything was alright with Claire?" He asks a little cautiously. The man didn't know that they saw each other beyond just friends. It was rocky ground to walk on, Leon wasn't quite sure how he'd react if he found out.

"Claire? Sure, why?" Chris sounded curious.

"Just sent her a message, to see if she wanted to catch up. Heard nothing back – you know Claire, usually glued to her phone." Sound casual, Leon.

"Probably with that guy she's been seeing."

Record scratch. Leon blinks. "She's seeing someone?"

"Yeah, this freakin hippy dippy tree hugging art student or something. Long haired pretty boy. Fall down if you blew on him. One of those guys that lectures you on not using plastic coffee cups and shit."

Leon makes a face. "Oh." He realizes he's holding his phone really, really tightly.

"Spoke to her yesterday though so, unless the world ended in Chicago last night, she's alright. You don't have to worry about Claire she takes care of herself."

Leon nods. Swallowing down a bundle of jealousy lodged in his throat. "I know. Just.. cool. Alright. Thanks man."

"I'll let her know you called if I speak to her."

"Great."

"Take care out there, brother."

"You too man." Leon clears his throat and says his goodbyes, hanging up.

Claire was seeing someone? Seeing someone and not answering his calls because of them? His jaw tightens, looking at his phone. What kind of controlling asshole kept a woman from answering her phone when it was a friend calling? In a heartbeat, Leon's built an image of the other man in his mind, and it's an image of a villain. A villain that has _**his**_ Claire.

He packs his things back up and first thing in the morning, he flies to Chicago.

He arrives at her apartment building in the late afternoon, pressing the buzzer and getting no response. It does nothing but fuel his concern. Had this man got her tied to the bed? Was he keeping her from doing anything at all? He sits on the concrete steps and taps his foot, jiggles his knee. Waiting for someone to come along and open the door so he could slip inside.

He's seriously considering just smashing the glass when suddenly.

"Leon? What are you doing here?"

He jerks his head up to see her standing at the foot of the steps, looking at him. "You didn't answer your phone, I was worried."

Her eyebrows lift. "So you came all the way to Chicago?" She laughs a little, coming up the steps to greet him. He rises to his feet and shrugs.

"Well, yeah. Why didn't you answer?"

She eyes him sideways and then leans in, kissing his cheek. "That's ridiculously sweet, but I'm fine. I just didn't have my phone charger with me, it's dead as a doornail." She sighs, opening up the door and letting them in to the building.

"Oh." He felt a bit dumb. "All night study party?"

"Kinda.." she says it hesitantly as they take the stairs to her second floor apartment. "How's the fight to save the world?"

He shrugs as she lets them in. "Going. Haven't been tortured in a while so.."

"That's not funny." She scolds him, setting her phone down on her kitchen counter and plugging it in to charge.

"Gotta see the humor in it or you'll lose your shit." Leon explains, leaning against the door frame as she starts the coffee machine.

"I guess. Where are you staying?"

"Marriott. Hows college?" he asks.

"Good. Between studying and work I get about an hours sleep a night." She laughs, "but it keeps me out of trouble."

The air was awkward between them, he could feel it and he didn't like it. This wasn't them. This wasn't how they were.

"I got a couple of weeks leave. Maybe we could go somewhere, do something?" He suggests. "Take a couple of bikes, hit the road."

She gets some mugs, clearing her throat. "I wish I could.. but.."

"You got classes at the weekend too?" He nudges a little.

"No.." She bites her lip, looking at him. "Leon, I'm seeing someone." She admits.

He folds his arms over his chest. "So we can't hang out?"

"I can't just take off.." she explains.

"Why not? Does he know about me?"

"Know what about you?"

"What we went through together."

"It's.." she sighs, "not really something we talk about."

"Oh."

"Well, do you tell every woman you sleep with about me?" She challenges him. It makes him smirk.

"Why would I let a one night stand in to my personal life? Would be different if it was a girl I was in a relationship with."

"But you don't do relationships." She mutters, looking away and pouring the coffee.

He chews on the inside of his lip a little. "Is that why you're seeing this guy? Cause I won't commit?"

Claire shoots him a look. "I'm seeing him because he's a sweet, kind man that I have a good time with. You know how hard it is for me to trust people, and I trust him. He's a good guy, Leon. It's got nothing to do with you."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"It does. I think you just want to be angry." She was possibly right. Leon lifts his hand to his mouth, chewing on the nail of his thumb. "You can't have it both ways." She adds.

"What do you mean?"

"You can't have me whenever you want, then just go fuck everything in a skirt while you're away and expect me to be waiting around when you get back."

It was a little like being slapped in the face, and his reaction isn't the best. He laughs. "Wow."

"Well, it's true. Isn't it?"

"I'm not expecting you to wait around."

"Then why are you mad I moved on?"

"Because you're telling me we can't even hang out now." He retorts.

She grits her teeth and looks away from him, the coffee making forgotten.

"You got some new guy and that's it? Everything we had is over?"

"What did we have?" She shoots back at him. There was something in her eyes that made him pause. He pushes away from the wall, moving over to her almost cautiously.

"Friendship. You're my best friend, Claire. I kinda need you." He says quietly, gently. Lifting his hand and gently taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger. She bites her lip and looks at him, her eyes watery. He wasn't quite sure why. "That all gone now?" he asks.

"Of course not." She whispers in return. "But I can't just take off with you."

Leon brushes his thumb over her lower lip. Oh yeah, he was making a move. Claire Redfield was his territory and whoever this guy was didn't have shit on him. Or so he thought.

"You don't want him." Leon murmurs.

Her breath hitches in her throat, and for a moment her resolve begins to crumble. The way he touched her still made her ache – still made her want. She could so, so easily end up in bed with him, where she always seemed to end up. But he didn't love her. He didn't want to commit to her, and she couldn't be his girl forever. "You don't want me." She retorts, bringing her hands up and pushing them against his chest. Moving him away. He frowns.

"I think I made it pretty clear what I want."

"And I want more than just sex." She says flatly. "I want more than a friend I sleep with. This wasn't supposed to get complicated, remember? I want a man that will love me, and be faithful to me. And you can't do that. I hear allll about your reputation." She laughs a little. "Even Chris jokes about it. Not a battle or woman you can't conquer, right?"

He looks away, folding his arms again.

"We're apart for months at a time, I know that. I'm not asking you to not.. see other women. You do you. We can still be friends. But don't ask me not to have my own life." She gently touches his arm, bringing his eyes back to her. "Right now, I'm with someone that makes me happy. And I can't run away with you."

He nods absently, it was a bitter pill to swallow.

"I can't just drop everything."

"I get it." He grunts.

"Leon.."

"I get it." He repeats with a shrug, "It's cool. Maybe we can just.. get a drink or something. Some time. Bring him along. Whatever." He begins to back away and Claire sighs.

"Don't be mad. You can't be mad at me for wanting to have a life, Leon."

"I'm not." He defends. He was. He was furious. But not with her. With himself. "I'm just gonna go, okay?"

She follows him as he turns toward her door.

"Leon, don't do this."

Sometimes in war, it's best to retreat.

And that's exactly what he does.

* * *

She calls him five times before she gives up. He ignores each of them. Leon had parked himself in a bar and was drinking his frustrations away. He was angry because she had a point. She did deserve a life, she deserved a man that could love her and be there for her, that wasn't gone all the time and sticking his dick in everything that moved. He could do that, he could be faithful. He could try. But it was still months away at a time, it was still not seeing each other for big chunks of the year. His wife would always be his job, would always come first because it demanded it.

Claire deserved so much more than that. She deserved to be happy. It just hurt that it wasn't him that could give her that happiness. Sometimes he cursed the path his life had taken. He supposed he was destined to be alone. What woman could love someone that was never there? Always at risk of death? It was a lot to ask of anybody.

But a part of him craved that connection and that stability. It must feel nice to know someone's waiting for you at home. Someone that loves you. Like his Mother used to welcome his Father home off of business trips. Always so happy to see him. Seemed like it was something he'd never have.

Claire could have it, though. She deserved it.

He quits ordering shots and just orders the bottle, setting up at the far end of the bar for the night.

"Woman trouble?" The bartender asks.

Leon laughs under his breath, twisting his glass in his hand. "Isn't that why most men drink?"

"I'd be out of a job if it wasn't." The bartender jokes, "you let me know if you need anything else."

Leon nods, knocking back another mouthful of Jack Daniels. His phone beeps with a text alert and he sighs, picking it up and looking at it. Another message from Claire. Offering him that drink he'd suggested, to meet her boyfriend. He grits his teeth. He couldn't imagine anything he'd rather do less than meet that hippie prick. Though of course, he was only going off of what super soldier Chris Redfield had told him. The guy was probably perfectly nice.

He pours another glass and ignores the invitation. Working his way through that bottle.

" _Well if you change your mind, we'll be at Dustys until around 11."_

Another message comes through. Leon finishes his glass and taps his fingers against it.

"So what did she do?" The bartender asks, cleaning glasses near by.

Leon's eyebrows lift and he refills the tumbler. "Moved on."

"Ouch."

"Well, when you can't give em the world.. they find it elsewhere." He offers out some drunk philosophy.

"I find if they're worth it, there's nothing that'll stop you giving them the world." The bartender says thoughtfully.

Leon pauses, gazing at the label on the Jack Daniels bottle. Soaking in the words.

"Mind if I ask whats stopping you?"

"Saving the world." Leon mutters, knocking back another mouthful.

"For real?"

He slowly nods. "How can you give them everything when you're always somewhere else?"

"You in the army or something?"

"Or something."

"I don't know. I do know plenty of women.. partners.. are willing to wait when their significant others are overseas. Thousands of them do it. I guess she just has to know no matter what, you're coming home to her. Trust, loyalty, all that good stuff." The bartender places his cleaned glasses back on the shelf and offers him a smile. "How much is she worth to you?"

Leon stares at him.

"I mean if she's moved on then I guess there's not much you can do. But if she's worth it, I feel like you'd find a way. And she'd be worth the fight. Just my two cents."

Was Claire worth it?

What a ridiculous question.

Leon throws money down on the bar and – drunk but determined - heads out into the rainy night. Finding a cab and asking for Dusty's bar which turned out to only be a couple of blocks away. He walks it instead, drenched by the time he yanks open the door in to the place. Shivering, he looks around and spots her red hair. She was sat at a round table with a guy that had shoulder length, rock star blonde hair. He wore a plaid shirt and jeans and looked like he'd just got done hugging a tree. Douchebag. Leon heads on over. Bumping in to their table in his drunken state, but its one way to announce his presence.

"Leon!"

"I need to talk to you." He looks at her. She narrows her eyes.

"You're wasted."

"I am not. You asked me to come." He defends.

"This is Alex." She introduces her boyfriend somewhat cautiously.

Leon turns a sickly sweet and insincere smile to the man. "Hi. I need to borrow Claire for a second."

"Uhh.." Alex looks a little cautious about letting this drenched, drunken man speak with his girlfriend. "Maybe you should do that when you're sober?"

"Don't you have a tree to go hug?" Leon retorts.

Claire instantly gets to her feet, grabbing him by the jacket and pulling him away. "Don't. Don't do this. Go back to your hotel and sleep it off."

He gently pulls her hand off of him. "I'm not drunk."

"You reek of alcohol." She shouts in a whisper, trying not to cause a scene, though they'd already drawn some of the bars attention. Alex was also on his feet.

"I drank but I'm not drunk." He insists, "hear me out."

"I think she made herself pretty clear, man." Alex speaks up and Leon glares at him. Claire grabs his chin, making him look back at her.

"Do not. Do this." She says very sternly.

"What, don't fight for you?" He shakes his head, "I thought that's what you wanted?"

"I don't want you to fight for me I want you to let me have a life."

"And what if I want to give you that life?!" He asks, his voice a little desperate. She blinks.

"Dude.." Alex speaks up.

"Fuck off!" Leon snaps at the other man.

Alex comes around the table and swiftly Claire is in the middle of them, looking at her boyfriend.

"Alex don't.. let me handle this." She warns.

"Yeah, Alex. I kill shit for a living." He snarls.

"LEON!" Claire snaps and looks back to him, pushing him back with one hand.

"Is that a threat? I'll have you arrested." Alex points at him.

"Try it!" Leon dares.

"Excuse me, we're going to have to ask you to take this outside.." the bar's manager arrives beside them. Claire rolls her eyes.

"I just need to talk to my girl." Leon insists with a slight slur.

"I'm not your girl."

"She's not your girl."

"Don't make us call security."

Claire grabs Leon by the arm and drags him outside into the rain, right there on the street, she yells at him.

"What are you doing?! You're acting like a maniac!"

"I just wanted to talk to you!" He retorts, swaying a bit as rain plasters her hair to her face.

"I don't know what else there is to talk about? Go home, Leon." She shakes her head.

"I came to see you, all the way to Chicago, because I was worried about you."

"No you came because Chris told you I was dating Alex." She folds her arms.

Leon flounders. "I wanted to see you."

She sighs, looking back to the bar and her boyfriend standing in the doorway. "Sleep it off, Leon. We'll talk tomorrow." She turns away, heading back toward the bar.

"I love you." He says above the rain. Claire stops in her tracks. "It took seeing you with him to realize it. Please.. talk to me."

Claire wraps her arms around herself, shivering against the cold of the summer rain. She bows her head.

"Claire."

"I can't.. Leon. Go back to your hotel." She glances over her shoulder at him and shakes her head.

She leaves him there in the rain, heading back to her boyfriend. Leon watches her go. Sometimes in war, it's best to surrender.

* * *

 **3am**

Leon had gotten back to his hotel and cleared out the mini bar. He ended up passed out half dressed on his bed. He didn't often admit defeat, but what could he do? He couldn't force her to listen to him, couldn't force her to be with him, couldn't force her to accept the life he offered. His sleep was thankfully dreamless, the sound sleep of the hopelessly drunk.

It's a miracle he hears the banging at the door at all.

His head jerks up once he realizes what it is. A groan escaping him. Was he being thrown out? Was it the police come to arrest him for being drunk and disorderly? Just what he needed to go on his record. He hauls himself up and he realizes his jeans are half way down his hips with his belt undone. No shirt. Oh well, they'd have to arrest him like that.

His hangover already thumped between his eyes.

"Alright!" he bellows as another hammering knock comes. Heading over to the door he undoes the catch and opens it up.

"... Claire.. what are you...?"

Was he dreaming? Or still way too drunk?

She stood there, staring at him. He half expects to get slapped.

"I'm sorry." He murmurs, bowing his head and rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. "I'll leave you alone."

She shakes her head and steps through the door, looping her arms around his neck and pressing herself against him. It takes him completely by surprise but he gathers her up, his heart thudding in his chest.

"I love you too." She whispers against his lips. Kicking the door shut behind her.


	8. The Great Destroyer

**Authors Note:** Why'd you have to go and make things so complicated? Nobody is perfect, not even our heroes.

* * *

 **I'm not here to save you**  
 **I'm not here to change your mind**  
 **I'm not here to hold you down**  
 **Or leave you half-alive**  
 **I came here to wake you**  
 **To open up your mind**  
 **Go on, go on, just close your eyes**  
 **Save your life**

 **\- Sick Puppies**

* * *

They tried. They really did. But sometimes reality isn't as straightforward as the things you imagine. For the two weeks of Leon's leave, they did nothing but hang out, make love and laugh. For a fortnight they were perfect and ready to take on the world. They talked in to the night and made plans, figured out in their young – twenty something brains how they would make things work. They had a lot of hopes, a lot of daydreams. Keeping in contact wasn't a problem, they already had long distance communication down. When he got back from wherever he was sent, he would go straight to Chicago to see her.

She broke up with Alex, of course. She had done the night she arrived at his hotel room door at 3am. The second Leon had told her he loved her she'd known it would happen. She'd never expected to hear those words come out of his mouth.

She made him happy. He made her happy. He even bought her a necklace on the day he returned to Nebraska. A promise. He'd be back, he loved her, he'd see her soon. He called her as soon as he got back to the base. When you're young and don't have the wisdom of experience behind you, it's easy to think you've got it all figured out. As it turned out, long distance love wasn't as easy as it sounded. For a year they made it work, for a year he was faithful – turning down women that made passes. Returning to hotel rooms or wherever he was camped out without any extra curricular activities. He saved the world in that year, twice. Stopping major outbreaks in their tracks in Egypt and Japan, he also led one of three teams responsible for shutting down the Russian branch of Umbrella. The same bunch of scumbags that had captured and tortured him a couple of years earlier. It was a satisfying victory, he returned to Claire in celebration. Showing up outside her college classroom with his bag over his shoulder and his military gear still on.

It had been something right out of 'An Officer and a Gentleman'. She'd ran into his arms and he'd lifted her from her feet. Her class actually applauded. Part of him regretted not just dropping to one knee and proposing to her right there, just to round off the moment. But as it turned out, it was a good thing he hadn't. It would have made what came next even more complicated.

He had two weeks of leave, and they practically spent them in bed. Couldn't get enough of each other, it was the kind of wonderful, passionate indulgence you read about in romance novels. She even skipped classes and work just to enjoy him. He was blissfully, perfectly happy. He would marry this girl, some day. He'd found his soulmate in the middle of the apocalypse, he was sure of it. It's kinda strange how easily it can all come tumbling down. How one, simple thing could change everything.

At the very end of 2003 he was informed he was being transferred. He was requested as part of a new special security team for the President himself. He would be moving to Washington, full time. It was a role that came with greater responsibility than any he'd had before. He'd go where the President went, unless instructed otherwise. He would be on duty 6 days a week, every week of the month. And he would be paid almost four times what he'd been paid in Nebraska – risking his life in various hells.

He couldn't turn it down. But it meant getting to Chicago became almost impossible. With his one day off a week, he'd barely be able to make it there for a handful of hours before he'd have to come back. He couldn't say no to the job, and she couldn't ditch college, work and her apartment. That Christmas was spent trying to figure out what they could do to make it work. She had a year left in college – if they could just hold out.

Just a year.

He moved in March. Finishing up a final assignment out of Nebraska before gathering up everything he owned – which wasn't much – and heading for Washington. Claire took a few days off to help him. His place in D.C was incredible, a spacious apartment near the top floor of a new building. It was more space than he needed, really. But it came with the job, it was a certain upgrade from his digs in Nebraska.

Claire sat in the window seat and looked out over the city, they could see the White House from there. It was amazing, he would be working for the President. She'd probably see him on the news or something, standing handsomely, a fearless protector of one of the worlds most important people. She was proud of him – she really was. He'd worked so hard, he deserved the success. But some part of her worried she'd never see him again. It was easy to say you could hang on a year, that it would be fine just existing via text messages and phone calls. But deep down they both knew they might not make it.

"That's all of it." Leon says quietly, after dumping a box down next to a way too expensive looking coffee table. At least he didn't have to furnish the place.

Claire looks away from the view and up to him, offering him a smile. "This place is really amazing."

"Yeah." he sticks his hands in the pockets of his jeans and comes over to the window, peering out at the spectacular view. "Who knew putting my life on the line would eventually pay off."

"And you get to stay in one place." She says wistfully.

"Kinda. I'll still be on the road when the President travels." He shrugs a bit, leaning against the wall and looking at her. "You staying tonight?"

She nods, sweeping her red hair back from her face. "Gotta test out that fancy bed at least once." She muses.

He laughs under his breath, nodding. "You wanna go explore the city?"

"Not really." She wrinkles her nose. "I'd rather stay in, find something to order. Just us."

"We can do that." He murmurs, gazing at her. A kind of sombre silence falls over them, both looking out over that view. "We'll make it." He says quietly.

Claire feels tears prickle her eyes almost instantly, and she nods. "Maybe we should just.. void this year." She says in a deep breath.

"What do you mean?"

"Like.." she struggles to find words. "Whatever happens.. it's okay. For one year."

He swallows down a dryness in his throat and looks at the floor. "Cause you think I can't keep my dick in my pants for a year."

She looks at him. "Can you?"

"I'm not a complete waste, Claire."

"I'm not saying.." she runs her hand through her hair again. Frustrated. "It's just a long time. And I don't want to be wondering. And you shouldn't have to be wondering about me. Things happen. Mistakes happen. Life.. happens." She explains. "If we're on a break, then none of it counts."

"Like it didn't count for Ross and Rachel?" He laughs sadly.

"Well that's fiction." She reasons.

"You'd really be okay with hearing I'd had sex with someone else?"

"I lived with it when we were just friends." She reasons.

"And I heard you were with Alex and lost my shit." He sighs, looking out the window.

"Well, I have school and work. It's not something I'm looking for. But, yeah. I guess you might have to deal with that."

He puffs his cheeks out, narrowing his eyes and not looking at her. "I hate the idea of someone else's hands on you."

"Me too." She laughs a little. "But this is our life now, I'm just saying that shit happens.. especially when you're alone, and lonely. And I'd rather we just.. made this year a free pass. Back to what we were. And when I'm done with college I'll transfer with work and move here. And we can pick up."

Ahh, the naivety of youth. To be twenty-ish and so sure you had it all figured out.

Life so often has other plans for you.

Leon reluctantly agrees on their new arrangement, though he couldn't help but feel like she was only saying it because she didn't trust him to get through the whole year without fucking anyone. Truth told, a bit of him didn't trust himself not to either, but that was besides the point. It stung. They order Chinese food and watch old movies. She had an early flight, but they stay up through the night. Making love, whispering sweet nothings and promises. Promises that they'd make it. She cried when he dropped her off at the airport.

Within a month, it all changed.

* * *

 **April 12th, 2004**

One month in to Leon's active duty as part of the Presidents personal security team, he would face one of the biggest challenges of his life. He had been assigned to protect the Presidents family, which was no small task. A wife that enjoyed endless shopping and spa trips as well as humanitarian work – and a twenty year old daughter. Feisty and in College in Massachusetts. Leon hadn't yet met Ashley, but was due to take over as her private security once she returned. He was staying at a hotel next door to the Presidents wife on the day it happened. Ashley and the two men assigned to guard her on her way back to Washington from school were ambushed – Ashley kidnapped. The two agents protecting her, killed. Whoever did it was highly trained and dangerous. Leon swiftly escorted the Presidents wife back to the White House from her spa retreat – The White House seemed to be in a state of organized chaos.

Nothing to do but trace leads given by witnesses and wait. For a ransom demand, for a terrorist organization to pop its head up and declare its desires. They had no idea who had Ashley and why, but there was a scramble to find out.

Within 48 hours of her going missing, they had intelligence come in that she was in a rural village in Spain. With no demands and nothing more to go on, it was decided that Leon would be sent there to investigate. There was a chance it was bad intel, just a red herring. There were a handful of other leads that different Agent's were sent out to investigate. But Leon drew Spain. It was a twist of fate that would mark another life changing event for him.

But the ordeal to come in that village wasn't all there was to it.

As he sat and waited for the private jet to fuel to fly him over there, he sent Claire a message. He couldn't tell her all the details, as it was still classified information. But he tells her he'll be out of the country for a while, and he hopes school is going well. Almost instantly he receives a call back.

Glancing out of the window at the jet, he answers it.

"Hey, I don't have long." He explains quickly.

"You're going out of the country?" She asks.

"Yeah, few days probably. Maybe more. Not sure how long it's going to take."

"What happened?"

"I can't say right now." He sighs, "you know how it is."

"Yeah.." she sounded sad. Far away. He frowns.

"Everything okay?" He asks cautiously.

She's quiet, and he has to repeat her name for her to speak. "Yeah. I just.. I don't know if I should tell you or not." She laughs a little.

His heart sinks. She'd slept with someone else - already. "Tell me what?" he almost whispers it.

He hears her draw a breath. He braces to be told she's met someone, had sex with someone, it hadn't even taken a month.

"I'm late." She says quietly.

He blinks, frowning. "For what?"

There's a beat, where she's likely cursing him for being dense. "You know.. _late_."

"I don't..." What was she talking about? Class?

"My period."

He suddenly feels like there's a hand around his throat, squeezing and choking. His mouth dropping open as someone else leans around the door and tells him it'll be three minutes. "Oh.." he responds finally.

"Yeah."

"How late?"

"Two weeks."

He grits his teeth. "Well have you done a test?"

"Not yet. I need to go get one."

He felt ill. There was bad timing and then there was this. His heart was thudding in his chest. "I uh.. well.. you should do that. Then." He had no idea what to say.

"I'll do it today, but how will I let you know if you're out of the country for a while?" she says quietly.

He clears his throat, his hand resting on his suddenly jiggling knee. "I'll call you when I get there. It might be the middle of the night for you or something, I'm not sure. I can't think." He rubs his temple, "so just leave your phone on."

"Alright."

"You can't be pregnant, right?" he laughs it off. "I mean we always use something."

"Not always." She reminds in a small sounding voice.

"But I never.. y'know.. in you." He was grasping at straws.

"You have. The first night of your leave before you moved. We got pretty toasted and..." She says regretfully.

He casts his mind back and quietly curses himself. "It was just one time."

She laughs a little. "All it takes. And pulling out isn't exactly reliable either."

He bows his head, muttering. "Fuck."

"I mean maybe it's nothing. College stress. Body just being weird." She grasps at the same straws.

"Agent Kennedy, we're ready."

He looks up at the assistant and nods, grabbing his backpack and getting to his feet. "Claire I gotta go." Running sounded really appealing right now, and a heavy guilt set in because of it.

"Alright."

"Take the test. Take like four. So we know."

"I will."

"I'll call you when I get there."

"Okay."

He quiets as he goes through the door and follows the assistant out to the tarmac. "We'll figure it out. Okay?"

"Be safe out there." She murmurs.

"Always."

As he hangs up, he doesn't hear her say 'I love you'.

He takes the steps up into the jet and is handed a file as he boards. All the intel so far. He sits in his seat in front of a desk and he tries to read it. He doesn't take a word of it in. It's the longest overseas flight of his life. He wasn't ready to be a father, he didn't think he'd ever be ready to be a father. Kids just weren't something that fit in to his life – how could he be one when he was never home? A kid would grow up not knowing him and that would fucking suck. He was angry with himself, and the longer the flight drags on the angrier he gets. He was religious about using protection, he always had been because getting someone pregnant had been one of his biggest fears. He always carried some, even if the girl he was with was telling him it was fine, he'd still use it. He'd slam on those breaks and get it seen to. One mistake. One stupid drunken mistake.

Unless it wasn't his. She'd wanted the break. She'd wanted the green light to go out and see other people. Maybe she was back with Alex. Maybe he was just the fallback guy because she was panicking and didn't want the father of her child to be someone she wasn't with. It's some mental gymnastics, but when you're on a long, dull flight and it's all you have to think about then your mind races everywhere.

I wish I could tell you Leon handled this situation perfectly. That he was able to man up, suck it up, and deal with it. But he was young, in a foreign country, facing unknown odds – and mostly, not ready to be a father. Not even a little bit.

He reaches the tarmac of the Spanish airport and is whisked in to a blacked out car waiting at the foot of its steps. He's driven to an embassy and while there, he's given an opportunity to change and get his shit together. He dresses in a deep grey tactical shirt and grey combat pants. He wasn't necessarily expecting hostility, but if the intel turned out to be good, he could well find himself in a gunfight. He straps on shoulder and thigh holsters and military tactical utility belt, adding a few essential things he might need if he ended up on some kind of trek through the woods. The file said it was rural.

He sheaths a combat knife and fixes it to his shoulder holsters with tape. Crude but it worked. Finally he shrugs on his fleece lined leather jacket, it wasn't the warmest out there. And it concealed half of the weapons he carried, he'd look less threatening to the locals. If he encountered any.

Boots, gloves. He's ready. He glances in the mirror and studies himself. Maybe he was going a little overboard with all this garb. The lead would probably be for shit and he was looking like a badass for no reason. Some part of him welcomed a fight, a chance to work out frustration and annoyance. He takes a deep breath and grabs his bag, heading back out to meet the secret service agents that had brought him here.

"Ready to go, Agent Kennedy?"

"One thing," he says, "there a phone I can use?"

"For what?"

"An important call back home, it's.. family stuff."

They look at him almost suspiciously. Leon sighs. "You can listen in on the damn call if you want. It's my girlfriend, she might.." he pulls a face. "Be pregnant." He says it out loud. The Agents look a little awkward and at the same time, sympathetic. They organize a private spot for him to make the call within the embassy. Though he was sure it was listened in to, he could hear the vague click on the line.

He feels a little sick as he punches in the number. What time was it there? He does the math. It would be late. Maybe 1am.

Claire picks up the phone almost immediately.

"Leon?"

"Yeah, it's me." He murmurs.

"You get to.. wherever you were headed?" She realizes she had no idea where it was he had even gone.

"Yeah. Just gearing up to head out, follow this lead." He couldn't say much more. He lifts a hand and scratches the back of his head. "So uh.. did you do the test?"

Silence stretches, and he swallows. He needed a strong drink.

"Claire?"

"I'm pregnant." She blurts out.

His heart stops. He finds himself gripping the phone so tightly his palm hurt and the leather of his gloves bites in to his skin. "Are you sure?" his voice comes out in a rasp.

She laughs a little. "Four positive tests sure."

Leon sits down. Staring at the wood floor under his feet. His stomach was in knots and he was a little bit worried he might throw up.

"I mean I'll go see a doctor and really confirm it but.. everything says that's pretty.. positive." She sounded scared and awkward. Any other time he'd be longing to comfort her. Right now, he was panicking.

"What are we going to do?" he asks dryly.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean.. what are we going to do?"

"I don't know." She murmurs. "Do you.. not want it?"

He laughs but its completely humorless. "I'm not ready, Claire. I'm not ready be a Dad." He's honest, at least.

"Neither am I, I'm scared too... but I don't know if I can get rid of it."

He grits his teeth. His heart was pounding. "Is it mine?"

I warned you that he didn't handle it perfectly. That he was just a young guy freaking out in the face of a reality he didn't _want_ to face. That question had been one of the many that had swirled in his head on the plane over to Spain, and he blurts it out now. Grasping at any straw that would get him out of this. Unfortunately, for Claire, it's an incredibly painful straw.

"Are you serious?" she sounded suddenly angry.

"Well you said, you wanted us to take a break, to see other people." He throws it right back and hears her half laugh, half sob in response.

"You're fucking serious."

"It's just a question."

"Sure, the day I got back from Washington I was right in some strangers bed, its obviously a random guys – of course. I'm sorry I bothered you." She snaps.

"Claire.."

"Fuck you Leon. I can't believe you asked me that." She was crying. He feels like shit.

"I was just.."

"You know me!" she insists, "you know how hard it is for me, you and Alex are the only men I've ever been with." He can hear her sniffling, hear her grab a tissue from a box.

"I just thought.." he bows his head.

"That I was back with Alex?" She throws it out there.

"Maybe."

"You know what.. I'll fucking handle this, you go do you. Don't worry about a thing." Her tone was suddenly cold and angry.

"Claire don't do this. It was just a question.. I'm kinda freaked out here." He defends himself.

"How do you think I feel?!" she shouts back at him. "Nothing changes for you! I won't even be able to finish college. I'll have to take time away from work. I'm the one that has to do it!"

He pinches the bridge of his nose as she goes off on a rant. He can't listen to it, not right now. He had a job to do and two agents were waiting outside to take him.

"Claire I can't.. I have to go." He cuts her off suddenly.

She laughs bitterly. "Fine."

"I have a job to do."

"Go fucking do your job." She spits, "we'll be just fine."

She hangs up on him, her final words leaving him breathless. 'We'. Her and his baby, without him.

Angrily he hangs up and grabs his shit together, heading out to find the agents waiting.

"Everything okay?"

"Yup." he says tightly. "Lets do this."

He didn't want to talk about it. Nothing. He just wanted to get this over with. He'd never hoped to encounter hostility before, but today he was ready to leather the shit out of someone. The agents take him to a rendezvous point where two Spanish Agents that knew the area waited to take him to the village. He's passed off like gift package, handed a radio. He gets in to the back of their car and they hit a rocky, rural road to nowhere. Leon sits in the back with elbow against the window, gazing out at the scenery, though he takes in none of it. His mind was racing – as of now, he was a father. That terrified him more than any hostility he could encounter.

The locals driving him attempt to make conversation. He isn't especially forthcoming, they'd caught him in a bit of a mood.

Eventually they come to a flimsy, clunky bridge and the drivers stop. Wishing him luck. He lets himself out and makes his first contact with home support. A chick named Ingrid Hunnigan, she seemed pleasant enough and not at all in to his sudden sarcasm. He does his best to leave all thoughts of impending fatherhood and fighting with Claire behind him as he advances toward the small, peaceful, rural village. The first house he encounters, he attempts a little politeness with the locals.

"Excuse me.. Sir? I was wondering if you might recognize the girl in this photograph?"

* * *

 **4 Days Later**

He was exhausted. He was filthy. His body ached from top to bottom. He was cut and bruised, scarred outside and in. It had been the fight of his life. That peaceful rural village had quickly descended in to a madness he hadn't been prepared for, but at the same time felt like he'd been getting ready his whole life for. He'd wanted a battle, he had certainly gotten one. Ultimately, it had been a success. He'd emerged victorious, the Presidents Daughter safely under his care. He doesn't get a chance to process a single bit of what just happened as he gets her to shore and to an extraction. It's a whirlwind of helicopters and private jets.

Eventually they end up in Paris, France. Where they get a chance to breathe and rest. The president and his wife waiting at a secret location to greet their rescued daughter. Leon feels like he has his hand shaken about a hundred times, and as nice as the thankyou's and gratitudes are, all he wanted was a shower and a drink.

"You must be exhausted." President Graham pats him on the shoulder, "we can't ever thank you enough."

"Just doing my job, Sir." he nods, returning the hand shake and offering the best smile he could. He hadn't slept in four days, adrenaline had taken control and kept his eyes open and his body moving. Kept his aim somehow steady. His mind sharp. Truth be told he didn't know how he'd gotten through it. He just had. A kind of meditative state setting in, a determination. He had to do this. He had to live up to his reputation, he had to rescue the girl, he had to get back home – to his girl.

To their baby.

He doesn't see Ashley again as she's ushered away by her parents and a full team of security. But she looks back over her shoulder at him, and he smiles to her. She reminded him of Claire in some ways, she wasn't a fighter, but she had the guts to survive hell alongside him. She'd seen it through, he was proud of her. "Seeya later, Kid." he says under his breath as she's led away. Leaving him standing, unsure of what exactly he was meant to do next.

He doesn't have to wait long as SS Agents arrive to tell him he had a room at a nearby hotel and he could clean up and rest.

"Best news I've had all week." He says wearily as they lead him back to a car. He stank to high heaven, he didn't know how anybody could bear to be around him. Smelled like mud and dried blood and sweat. And whatever gunk it was that poured from those parasites. As he sits in the back of the car and is driven again, he gazes out of the window, remembering. The awful screeching sounds they made. The sight of this thing bursting from the neck of some poor infected villager. It didn't bear thinking about, it was the stuff of nightmares. Now – it was the stuff of his nightmares.

He reaches his room. Courtesy of the President. Spacious, air conditioned, comfortable. He drops his bag down and for a moment he stands, soaking in the peace and quiet. Letting the silence wash over him in a soothing, calming wave. He'd lost his jacket somewhere along the line, which was a shame, he'd only just gotten it. But at least he still had all his limbs.

Slowly he begins to peel off the holsters, dropping down bundles of leather and guns on to an expensive looking chair. He drags off his gloves and boots. His hands were sore, blistered from four days of damp and reloading and fucking around with a bolt action rifle before he finally found that automatic. It had been luck that had gotten him through much of the battle. Scavenging weapons, finding things he could make use of. At least he knew he could think on his feet.

As he peels off the tactical shirt that was almost glued to his body, he thinks. About Krauser. The man was so lost, so off the path, so consumed by the war machine within. He could never become like that, he had to keep his humanity. It scared him. The tactical shirt hits the floor with a kind of splat. Gross. He undoes his belt and gets rid of his combat pants and underwear and for a minute he stands under the air conditioning. Letting the cool air blow over his hot and weary skin. He catches sight of himself in the mirror. He was filthy, mud and blood and god knows what else streaking his skin.

It's the most welcome shower he's ever stepped in to. And it's probably never been more appreciated. He makes the water as hot as he can stand and for a while he just stands beneath the large shower head, letting it rain down upon him like a waterfall. He leans against the wall of the shower, exhaustion taking over. He ends up sliding down the tile and just sitting there, arms around his legs, hair plastered to his face. His eyes close.

Ada. Ada had been there. And he was still no closer to knowing who she worked for – how many people was she playing? What chess pieces was she moving? And why did she always show up right when he needed someone? She'd saved his skin back there – again. Would he ever be able to repay her?

Leon tilts his face to the water, letting it soothe away the grime and sweat. Eventually he finds the strength to get up and to actually wash himself. A sponge, some soap. He scrubs off every bit of the last four days. It felt good. He felt more human, a little closer to Leon the man rather than Leon the soldier. Russia had shown him what he could take, Spain had shown him what he was capable of. It was as scary as it was comforting. The learning experiences never stopped coming.

Eventually he steps out of that shower, wraps a big, fluffy towel around his waist and brushes his teeth. Another amazing feeling. You do your best in the field, but there's not a whole lot of time to do anything but piss when you're out in the thick of it and everyone's trying to kill you.

When he finally feels clean, he decides he'll shave in the morning. For now, he wanted a strong drink and maybe something to eat. Then, he wanted to sleep for a full 24 hours – though he doubted that would be possible. They'd likely have him moved on to something else by morning. At the very least, shipping him back to the USA to pick up his guard duty. He moves in to the main room and hunts down the room service menu. It's only after he's called and placed an order that he realizes something in his exhausted state.

The curtain was moving.

He frowns, jaw tensing a little. He quietly crosses the bedroom and picks up his magnum, advancing slowly toward the lightly billowing, floor length fabric. Might just be an open window – or it might be a cult member looking for some revenge. He tucks the fabric back and discovers a balcony, with the door open. His frown deepens as he hesitantly steps out on to it, checking both sides. Nothing. Maybe the hotel staff had just forgotten to close it. So he does that, flipping the lock and staring at it for a moment, he then makes a single step back and feels the cold metal muzzle of a gun press in to his lower back.

Coconut and sweet fruit. She always smelled like a tropical drink.

"Drop the gun, handsome." Ada purrs behind him.

He slowly raises his hands, she gently plucks his gun from his fingers. "Do you think one day we could meet without weapons involved?" He asks.

"Where would be the fun in that?" She asks, stepping back and allowing him to turn around to face her. He does so, taking her in. His hands still raised – still shamelessly only wearing a towel. She was dressed in a black and red dress, it looked expensive. It clung to her curves, shorter one side than the other. He wasn't sure what kind of cut they called that, but she had the legs to show it off. She was truly beautiful.

"So what is this, back to finish the job?" he quirks an eyebrow. "Were you supposed to leave me to die back there?"

She shakes her head, lowering her gun. "You weren't a threat to my mission."

"What was your mission?"

She smirks, "nice try."

"So if you're not here to kill me and I don't need saving – what do you want?"

"I thought it was time we met, properly." She says casually, moving over to the bar. He follows her with his eyes alone. She sets both of their guns down on the mahogany surface and gets them two glasses. "What's the matter, you look like you've seen a ghost." She smiles back to him as she pours.

"Haven't I?" he asks. "You died, in Raccoon City."

"Appearances can be deceiving."

He chuckles a little. "Why, Ada? Why'd you do that?"

She crosses back over to him, handing him a shot of whiskey. "Because I had to." She answers simply. "I couldn't leave with you. I had a job to finish. I couldn't have your questions either."

He takes the glass, his fingers brushing hers. "You could have just said that."

"Could I?" she queries. "Because the man I met in Raccoon City wouldn't have accepted that answer. It was the cleanest, simplest way."

"And I carried the guilt of your death for two years." He rumbles, lifting the glass to his lips and knocking back a sip without taking his eyes off of her.

She hitches a shoulder. "You're strong enough."

"That shit ate me up for a long time."

"Well I'm sorry for that. I tried to make up for it in Russia."

He grits his teeth. "Why'd you run away from me in New York?"

"Again, I had a job to do. I couldn't deal with these questions – then."

"So why now?"

"Because.." she downs her own drink in an elegant tip of her head, then sets the glass aside, moving closer to him. "I want to find out if you handle a woman as well as you handle a weapon."

She undoes the twist in his towel and lets the fabric fall away. Leaving him naked. Then reaches behind herself, drawing down the zip of her dress. It falls to her feet in a puddle of expensive material. He drinks in her delicious, naked form. Every inch of her was perfect, toned, gorgeous. He knocks back the last of his drink and sets that glass beside hers. She eyes him with a glint of mischief and some of the most perfect, ruby red lips he'd ever seen.

He slips his hand around her waist an tucks the other at the back of her neck, drawing her to him.

She threw the gauntlet down. He accepts the challenge.

* * *

 **Authors Note 2:** Ada Fans, never fear.. they'll get their scene next. Bring a strong drink and a fan!


	9. Illusions of Bliss

**Authors Note:** It's getting hot in here, so take off all your clothes. Oh, they already did. Onwards!

* * *

 **Here I go again, back into the flame**  
 **Like a moth so willing to be burned**  
 **A little touch a little taste the pheromones embrace**  
 **And I get weak with every breathe I take**

 **'Cause it's you who released me**  
 **It's you who gave me fire**  
 **Oh and now it's impossible to grow**  
 **Without breaking stride, I get so high**

 **\- Sarah McLachlan**

* * *

Her skin was smoother than silk beneath his hands, and tasted like peaches. He wasn't entirely sure he was awake – that this wasn't some feverish dream after four days on his feet fighting for his life against impossible odds. Had he reached exhaustion point? Was he now collapsed in his hotel room imagining this woman? Ada. The ghost in the red dress that had haunted him since Raccoon City.

He'd been drawn to her from the moment he met her, like a moth drawn to a flame. She was mysterious, exotic. Spoke in riddles and made him feel things inside he hadn't felt since high school – when he'd first started discovering the allure of women. Weird tangles and butterflies and a strange sense of excitement all swirled around in his stomach. Ada was a fantasy and in some ways he'd been happy to let her remain as such, he'd thought about her more than once in his alone time, and you know exactly what I'm getting at.

Should a fantasy always stay a fantasy? There was a certain magic to making it real. He just hoped it really was real. That he wasn't going to wake up at some point, sprawled on the tastefully carpeted floor of this overly expensive suite.

They'd made it from the bar to the bed with ease, clothes already gone, nothing to do but explore and enjoy. She arched under him, lithe and seductive. Lightly dragging her nails across his chest, making muscle react and tighten. He attacked her neck with his mouth, breathing her in. Talk about chemistry. Something about theirs bordered on explosive. He claims her lips with an aggressive kiss and she grasps his ass, drawing him closer, bringing him down to her. He holds off from just taking her. He wanted to savor this a bit. If it was a dream, he wanted the memory to last.

His hand captures her breast, he smears kisses across her cheek and downward. She moans something about wanting him to fuck her. But she wasn't in control here, he was. Their dynamic switched. He'd snatched that gauntlet off the ground and he was keeping it. She'd driven him half crazy for years, now it was his turn. She gasps and sighs as he sinks between her thighs, his hands run over her stomach and keep her from squirming away as his mouth discovers the hot center of her. Her hands curl in the bed sheets. She curses him under her breath and it makes him smile – as well as he could smile with his face buried in her pussy.

She comes quickly and easily, hardly a challenge. A victory he now held over her in an endless battle for dominance. He kisses along her inner thigh and as he does, there's a knock for room service.

Leon lifts his head and their eyes meet, an amused glint in both pairs.

"Leave it outside!" he bellows in response. Not a usual request, but hey, they weren't going to argue with a Government Agent.

Left in peace, he returns his attention to the woman of his dreams. She studies him through narrowed eyes, her skin flushed and hot thanks to her orgasm. He was quite something. He didn't just have the killer looks, he could get the job done elsewhere as well. Which was a rare combination to find in a man. Most of them thought a quick fumble in the dark was more than enough to make them Casanova. But Leon? The lights were on and even after four days of battle he was present and making her feel amazing things.

She didn't give herself to many men, it was a rare thing. She used her body efficiently, sometimes it could get her what she wanted. Get her information. Get her the things she needed to complete a task. She wasn't precious about sex, it was a function and sometimes it was an incredible tool for manipulating even the most hard to reach men. She was an expert at seduction. But with Leon? She didn't need to try. She'd had him in the palm of her hand since the moment they collided in a small decaying town and this? This was really her, giving herself to him. Her own wants, for once.

She traces the tip of her tongue along her top lip as he crawls his way back up along her body. He moved like a predator and she was his prey – a strange feeling for her, it was usually the other way around. If she didn't want him so much, she might be a little worried. She wasn't one to submit to anybody. But he had her.

She curls her hand around the back of his neck as he returns to her lips and kisses her with a commanding confidence. She returns it, and her other hand dips down low, taking hold of and stroking him. He growls in to the kiss, a low rumble in his chest. So wound up after so many days fighting for his life. So was she. It was a release they both craved and it was fitting they found it in each other.

She guides him to her but instead of taking her, he breaks the kiss, looking down at her. He knew what he was doing. Teasing, taunting. "What's your real name?" He asks in a heavy whisper. Her eyebrow quirks.

"Ada."

He licks his lower lip, she was still stroking him, it felt really fucking good. Being inside her would feel even better, but he resists.

"I know it isn't." He rumbles.

"It's the only name I go by." She purrs, "now fuck me."

"Not until you tell me your name." It was a dangerous game. She might just walk out.

Her eyes narrow, studying his resolve. "Do it, and I'll tell you." She whispers.

He tightens his jaw, "I don't believe you."

"I keep my word."

He tucks his hand down between them, taking hers away and guiding himself. He takes her in one smooth push of his hips. It's like sinking in to bliss and his breath catches in his throat, his entire body trembles and he looks down at her. He hoped to God this wasn't a dream. She grips him like a silken vice and for a moment he's worried he's going to lose it completely.

"Your name?" He forces the words out, buried inside her at last.

"It's still Ada." She breathes, stroking her hands along his back.

His eyes snap open and he meets hers. It's a challenge. A dare. Her wicked little ruby red smile taunts him.

He grasps her hands, pins her wrists above her head, and he fucks her. Harder than he'd dare with Claire. If Claire was home and love and passion – then Ada was danger and fire and a raw, feral desire. Something primal emerges within him, she wasn't going to win. He'd fuck her name out of her if he had to. He'd taken down a whole army, he'd bent a whole village to his will. He'd get her name.

Their bodies crash together, a sweat slicked symphony. She lets herself enjoy it, working with him, crying out her pleasure. When he releases her wrists to grab her thighs for more leverage, she drags her hands over his muscled arms and down along his back, encouraging him, digging in her nails like driving a spur in to an untamed horse.

He growls angrily and pulls from her, getting to his knees he's grabs her hips and turns her over. She meets his challenge, rising up on her hands and offering herself to him again. He takes her, grabbing her hips. Deep. Hard. In no time at all her thighs quake and her hands grip the covers, he unravels this taunting woman again. Twice. He had her. His heart was pounding, he drops down over her, a hand on either side. He kisses between her shoulder blades, rocking his hips now.

"Your name?" he growls against the back of her neck.

"It'll always be Ada." she manages in a breathless whisper. He snaps his hips into her hard and she moans, it sent an aftershock of pleasure through her. "You can't keep this up forever." She taunts him.

"Wanna bet?" He hisses, grabbing her wrists again, he pulls her hands behind her back and uses them for leverage as he picks the pace right back up.

She was right, though. He can't keep it going forever. Soon his body betrays him, but it's a release he's needed since Raccoon City. All the frustration, regret, anger and passion he'd felt, finally poured in to her. He collapses on top of her, pinning her beneath him. They lie there, a sated heap. He closes his eyes, feeling the pull of utter exhaustion clawing at him. After a minute or two, he eases from her and flops to his back on the spacious bed. Swiping his hand over his face and staring at the ceiling.

"Holy shit." He murmurs.

At his side, Ada gathers herself together and then wordlessly gets up and pads naked to the bathroom. He watches her go, then flops his head back down on to the pillow. He felt lighter than he had done in years, like he'd exorcised the ghost of Raccoon City inside her. He'd just torn a path through Spain, he'd survived everything the world could throw at him, and he was still fucking standing.

In that moment, he was the man.

And then he remembers he'd been so caught up in the moment he had forgotten to use protection. And his stomach clenches up in a knot as he remembers Claire. She was so mad at him, he'd asked her that awful question, trying to escape his responsibility. He needed to call her. He needed to call her and they needed to talk. Figure out what they were going to do. He couldn't force her to get rid of it. So if she decided to keep it, he had to man up, didn't he? He'd survived Russia and Spain, he could survive becoming a father. Right?

Ada wanders back in to the room, naked and shameless, heading for the bar where she pours them two more drinks. He sits up, watching her as she returns to the bed and hands him a glass.

"Half thought you were never going to come out of there, that you'd just.. vanish in to the night." He says as he takes the drink.

She smiles at him, getting back on to the bed. "I probably should. But my legs need to recover a little first."

He smirks. Sipping. "So did I pass?"

"Oh, you passed." She laughs against the rim of her glass.

"We didn't use anything." He brings it up.

She's as casual as could be. "It's fine. You think I can afford to get knocked up? In my line of work?"

He assumed that meant she was on some type of birth control. "And what is your line of work?"

She quirks an eyebrow. "I think you know."

He studies her, throwing his free arm behind his head as he settles back against the pillows and headboard. "No idea. All I know is you show up in the strangest places, and you always seem to have the drop on everybody. File the US government has on you says you're a spy."

A curious smile fleets across her lips. "They have a file on me, hm?"

"Yep. How I know your name isn't actually Ada."

"But it is." She looks at him.

"Legally?"

"In every way that counts."

"Hm." He studies her carefully. She was impossible to read, the only woman he'd ever met that he couldn't get a beat on. It was mysterious and enticing. He wanted to know more. "Why were you in Russia?"

"Why do you think?"

"Infiltrating the Umbrella splinter cell? Trying to get something from them?"

She tilts her glass a bit, a casual hitch of her shoulder.

"And you risked it all to save me."

"I couldn't see them do to you what they did to the others." She admits quietly.

His stomach knots again and he looks in to his drink. "So who are you working for?"

She rolls her eyes. "Isn't there anything you'd rather talk about than work?"

He smirks. "Just curious."

"Well you know what they say about curiosity."

"What's that?"

"It killed the cat."

"Well.. I'm no pussy." He says flatly.

It makes her laugh and she pushes herself up, straddling his hips, still holding her glass. What a sight.

"I'm not dreaming, right?" He asks.

"If you are then we're both in it. Which after the week we've had might not be too far beyond the realms of possibility." She muses.

"How do you know Krauser?"

"All you want to talk about is work." She sighs.

"Well what do you want to talk about?"

"Well, tell me. Who is Leon Kennedy?"

"So you get to know about me and I don't even get to know your name?" He challenges.

"Touche. Alright then. I was born in America." She gives him that.

"Where?"

"East coast."

He narrows his eyes.

"My favorite colors are black and red."

He snorts. "Really? I wouldn't have guessed."

"I like hot weather, sushi, long hikes and there's nothing more beautiful than the sea under the moonlight."

Leon studies her, drinking her in. Every word, every curve. "I can think of something more beautiful." He murmurs.

"Don't get all sentimental on me now, Leon." She purses her lips, draining her glass. She eases from him and puts it aside, then settles herself on the bed next to him. He finishes his, putting his glass aside too.

"You're actually going to stay?" he asks quietly.

"I'm pretty exhausted." She replies. "Is that a problem?"

"Not at all." He smiles at her, lifting a hand to gently tuck some of her hair back from her eyes.

"You must be ready to drop yourself."

"Just a little." he chuckles wearily, his eyes drifting closed as he says it.

They talk in whispers a short while longer, before that exhaustion finally claims him. He drifts in to a deep sleep. His breathing getting deeper, the lightest of snores that tells her he's out. Once she's sure, she opens her eyes, looking at him. Sweet, trusting man. The world hadn't broken him down yet, despite how hard it had tried. There was something admirable about that, something that spoke to her jaded heart. In another lifetime, maybe he could be the one.

She eases out of bed and drifts across to his bags, quietly undoing zips and plucking out his wallet. She leafs through it's contents, finding a picture of him with that redhead from Raccoon City. Claire Redfield. She looks across at him, sleeping soundly. Were they a thing now? Had he just cheated on this pretty little thing? She studies the photo. They looked happy, posed in front of a lake in what looked a lot like Chicago. A wistful smile passes across her face and she tucks it back in. She finds his phone, government issued of course. Fancier than the things available to the public currently. It has a lock on it, but it takes her only a minute to bypass that.

She finds what she's looking for, and then can't help herself. She looks at his messages.

He was definitely dating Miss Redfield. Which meant he was cheating on her.

It makes her look at him slightly differently. He was still just a man after all – still a slave to his urges. It was a tiny bit disappointing, but she supposed none of them were perfect. "Sorry about this, Claire." She sighs a little, shutting the phone off again. She tucks everything back where she found it and returns to bed. Climbing in beside him, he grumbles and moves, slinging an arm around her as he settles again. It was nice, a pleasant weight. It wasn't often she got to feel like she belonged somewhere, but he made her feel that way. It was nice to dream, sometimes, of a normal life.

Where he wasn't a cheater and she wasn't a slave to a government and maybe they could just be.

She closes her eyes and for a night, allows herself to just be a woman, sleeping with a man.

He never did pick up his room service. Something he realizes when he wakes with a growling stomach. It's a pleasant surprise to find her still there beside him. He'd fully expected her to be gone by the morning, but there she was. Not a dream after all, she was really there, it had really happened. He gets up and crosses to the balcony, opening the doors to let in some real air. It was a warm, sunny morning outside. His whole body ached, four days catching up to him. But he felt more rested than he had done in a while. He crosses to his bags and digs out his phone, it didn't handle international calls but messages it could manage. Nothing from Claire.

But something from work. He was officially off duty. He had the room as long as he wanted it, vacation time to recover. It's a nice gesture, but he had to get home. He had to fix things with Claire. Or try.

He wonders if he should tell her – about Ada. He wasn't sure he could lie. But then, blurting out that he'd been with someone else while she was home struggling with the idea she now carried his baby probably wasn't the best idea. He'd keep it quiet, for now. He shoves his phone back in his bags and heads for the bathroom. After brushing his teeth and taking care of the usual things, he starts the shower and gets in.

It isn't long before she joins him. A pleasant surprise.

You're not supposed to get dirty in the shower, but they do. Once again its fiery and passionate, bordering on aggressive. He liked the way she surrendered to him, it made a change from all the times she left him wondering. Left him frustrated. Being with her was very, very different to being with Claire. They were polar opposites in every way, and both of them satisfied some part of him.

"I'm officially off duty." He remarks as he wraps a towel around his waist.

"What a coincidence." She says thoughtfully, drying her hair. He leans against the door frame and watches her as she morphs in to a typical woman. Putting on make up, doing her hair, primping and preening.

"Need to get home, but.. could hang here a day." He suggests cautiously.

"You want to take me on a date, Leon?" she asks with a hitch of her eyebrow, looking at him in the mirror.

He clears his throat, folding his arms. "Never seen Paris."

She glances over her shoulder at him. "Never?"

"Nope."

She returns to adding mascara to her eyes. "Well, maybe I can spare a few hours."

"Somewhere to be?" He asks.

"I need to get back to London." She sighs.

"What's in London?"

She flashes him a look and a smile, getting on with her makeup.

"British Government, is that who you work for?" He asks.

"No more work talk, Leon. We're off duty."

He chews on his lower lip and nods, unfolding his arms. That was a yes. "I'll order us breakfast."

* * *

They eat breakfast on the balcony that overlooks the Eiffel Tower, then head out on to the streets of Paris to explore. It's an amazing city, it felt old and cultured and a little beyond him. She drags him in to several expensive designer stores, and she refuses any offer he makes to pay for anything. She was as independent as she was beautiful.

They visit the tower, and an amazing art gallery. It wasn't usually his kind of thing at all. Normally he'd flinch away from the idea of wandering around looking at paintings. But something about being with her drew a different Leon out from inside. One that was interested, because she made it interesting. She made art and culture interesting. Expensive coffee in tiny cups, lunch by a river on a cobble stone street. She tells him about the history of the place and for some reason he's fascinated. Learning, he'd almost forgotten how much he enjoyed learning. His brain was a bit of a sponge for it. She seemed to know everything.

She was a mystery, one that had him completely enthralled.

"I'd like to see you again." He admits to her as they walk toward Notre Dame.

"I'm sure our paths will cross sooner or later." She looks to him with a smile.

He sighs a little, looking up at the cathedral as it looms before them. "We can't just.. set up a date?"

She's entirely non committal, "hard to do in our world."

"Not that hard."

"Are you sure you don't have someone to go home to?" She challenges.

He grits his teeth a bit. He should have known she'd look in to him. His life. It was pretty unfair that he was an open book to her and he still knew next to nothing about her. He knew more about Paris now thanks to Ada than he knew about the woman herself. "We're taking a break." He admits.

"Oh?"

"I had to move to Washington, she has college and work in Chicago. Our schedules just.. didn't match up anymore." He explains.

"That's sad."

"Yeah, well. Life happens I guess." He gives her a little smile. "I can give you my number?"

Ada hesitates, looking around herself as she stops in her tracks. It makes him pause and frown. "Leon.."

"What?"

"Don't get too attached to this." She says quietly.

"What do you mean?"

"This can't happen." She gestures between them.

"Why not?"

She laughs a little. "You know why not."

"What, because we work for different Governments? Why?"

"Exactly that. And so much more." She lifts a hand to his face, he leans his cheek in to her palm. "Even being seen together today could set things in motion." She sighs.

"What things? Why would it matter what we do in our personal time?"

"Oh it matters." She says in a breath of a laugh. "It always matters."

He shakes his head. "I think this life has made you paranoid."

"And you should let it do the same to you. Before it starts taking..." she cuts herself off, "just trust me, okay?"

"So that's it?" He asks.

"Don't give me those sad eyes and that puppy face. Leon. Go back to work, go back to your girlfriend. And if the fates mean for us to see each other again, we will."

"It's not fair that you can track me just about anywhere and I don't know shit about you." He challenges.

"The way it has to be." Ada shrugs.

"So many fuckin' rules." He dips his head, annoyed.

"And learning to play by them will keep you alive."

"You make it sound like someone's out to get us."

"You piss off enough bad guys, then they will be." She warns.

He nods. He understood. He might not like it, but he understood. "Still got the rest of today though. So.. show me this cathedral." He looks up at it. It was pretty impressive.

When he looks back, she's gone. Vanished into the crowd.

"Ada!" he calls out, frowning.

Nothing. He scowls. Irritated. He didn't even get to say goodbye. How did she do this stuff? What was she, one of those secret government agents you heard about in novels? Super spy? Did she really work for the British Government? Did she use her body to get information out of hapless men like him? Had he given anything away?

He realizes he had no idea how to get back to the hotel from here, so he remembers his French and hails a cab. The whole drive back he's watching out of the window for a glimpse of her red dress. But he sees nothing.

He closes his eyes, leaning his head against the window. This had without a doubt been one of the strangest weeks of his life. But what a way to end it.

* * *

He thinks about her the whole flight back to the USA. Business class, paid for by the President. What a change his life had taken over the past few months. For a guy that lived pretty humbly and simply for so long, it was a bit of an adjustment. In his jeans and white button down shirt and leather jacket, he felt really out of place amidst all of the suits. All the men tapping away on their laptops and women reading their books in their designer pencil skirts.

One of them makes eyes at him the entire trip. If he'd felt like joining the mile high club, he likely could have without much effort. But two women messing up his mind was quite enough for now. Instead he nurses a few whiskeys and tries to catch up on the four days of sleep he'd missed. All the while wondering where Ada was now. What she was doing in London. Who she was doing it for.

He catches a connecting flight from Texas and he doesn't return home. He heads to Chicago.

Time to get back to reality. Time to face the music. It was the weekend, so technically she should be home. He turns up at 1pm and presses her buzzer, waiting, bag slung over his shoulder.

Nothing.

He looks up at the building and chews his lip a bit, then digs out his phone. He'd wanted it to be a surprise, but he supposed a phone call might be that as well. Letting it ring, eventually she answers.

"Leon, you're home?" she says it in a quiet, almost apprehensive tone that makes him frown.

"Not exactly. I'm.. actually at your home." He looks up at the building again.

"Oh."

"That was me at the buzzer." He chuckles a little. "You wanna let me in?"

There's a short pause before she answers. "I can't."

"Claire, if you're still mad at me that's why I'm here.."

"No I mean I can't. I'm not there."

He frowns. "Oh.. where are you? New boyfriends?" he jokes, though it's not especially funny.

"No. Ugh." She sounded so agitated. His face falls.

"I'm just joking. Where are you? I got some leave.. things overseas went a little.. crazy. They're giving me some healing time."

"Healing time? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, it was just a lot. Four days.. few hundred people wanting me dead."

"Jesus, Leon.."

"I'm alright. Nothing some rest and some therapy wont cure." He wasn't joking about the therapy, they'd make him attend. Trauma counselling was pretty much mandatory after what he'd been through. Couldn't have their agents flipping out.

Claire sighs heavily on the line. "I'm in Nevada, with Chris. But.."

"Gimme the address."

"I don't think it's a good idea you come here."

"Why not?" He asks hesitantly.

"Because..."

Leon's mouth felt dry. "You told him, didn't you."

"I had to.. I needed someone to talk to." She says quietly.

"Just how dead does he want me?"

"Enough that he probably shouldn't even know you're back in the country."

Leon closes his eyes, leaning against the door in to her building. "Well, might as well get it over with."

"Are you crazy?"

"I can hold my own."

"That's what I'm worried about. I don't want either of you dead."

"It wont come to that." He promises.

"You don't know Chris that well."

"Well he's going to have to deal with it." He says flatly. "Cause if we're having this baby then.."

"Is that him?!" Chris's voice suddenly booms over the phone. "Gimme that!"

Leon braces as the phones snatched from Claire's hand.

"Kennedy?"

"Yeah."

"You come around here, or near my sister – _ever_ – again. I'll cut your fucking heart out and feed it to you."

"Chris, c'mon.."

"Don't call her. Don't speak to her. Don't even think about her."

"I can't do that man. She's.."

"You've ruined her life, Leon. All cause you can't keep your dick in your pants."

"Its not like that, at all."

He couldn't get a word in, Chris was raging. "I will _end_ you. Got that? Fuck off."

With that, the phones hung up. Leon draws his back from his ear and stares at it.

"Wow."


	10. Different Destinations

**Authors Note:** I have nothing to say, this is just habit now. Thankyou for the love as always, enjoy!

* * *

 **Cause I remember the rush, when forever was us**  
 **Before all of the winds of regret and mistrust**  
 **Now we sit in your car and our love is a ghost**  
 **Well I guess I should go**

 **\- Lorde**

* * *

In the wake of the abrupt phone call with Chris and Claire Redfield, Leon makes a handful of decisions. The first of which is to return back home. He catches a brief flight from Chicago to Washington D.C and arrives in his expensive new apartment. It still felt a little strange, like he was trespassing somewhere he didn't belong, an imposter – part of him didn't ever want to get used to it either. For all he knew he could be back in the trenches in Nebraska tomorrow.

He unpacks his gear from Spain, which gives him pause. He ends up crouched in front of the damn washing machine, studying the tactical shirt he'd worn through those four days. It was smeared with blood and dirt, and a kind of shimmery green gunk from the parasites. It still hadn't really sunk in that all of that had happened, that he'd made it somehow. The things he'd seen. He absently rubs his hand across his chest, remembering the searing pain and the burning feeling that had come with breathing shortly before removing the parasite. He'd come so close.

He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and brings himself back to the present, then chucks the shirt in the washer. He bundles in the rest of the things and sets the machine. Getting back up, he goes over his guns. Cleaning, checking them over. Generally being a good soldier. When everything's fixed up he takes a shower and then grabs his laptop, lying back on his bed and beginning a search.

It isn't hard to find information on Chris Redfield, when you had the clearance he now had. But he didn't care about the man's medical records or mission reports, all he wanted was his address. He knew he'd have a fight on his hands, maybe he'd even let Redfield get in a punch or two – after all it was the unwritten rule, you didn't put your hands on a friends sister. Not that he and Chris had been close buddies or anything, he barely knew the guy. But the brotherhood of those that fought in this war was a pretty strong one. Leon had broken the code, he knew it, so maybe he deserved a little of what was coming to him.

He had to get Chris to see that he understood, and he wasn't going to abandon his little sister. That her life wasn't over. They'd figure this out, one way or another.

Leon scribbles the Nevada address down on a piece of paper and for a while just sits, considering all of his options. Really, he could just leave this all alone. Let Chris be her protector. Pretend it wasn't his problem. Walk away. But he just wasn't wired that way, he couldn't be that guy. So if he had to take a few punches, so be it. That in mind, he books his flight to Nevada and gets himself a strong drink.

First, he writes up his mission report on Spain and then sleeps off his jetlag. Giving Chris a good 24 hours to simmer down from his initial rage. Then, he heads for the airport. He felt like he spent half of his life in the sky, it was like a second home at this point. Dressed in dark navy jeans and white T shirt and his usual leather jacket, he's armed only with the best intentions as he gets in to a cab and gives them Redfield's address. His stomach is in knots, not because he was worried about a fight, but because he would soon see Claire, for the first time in over a month. It felt like forever since he'd seen her face or held her in his arms. He looked forward to both, he just hoped he would be able to.

"This is it." The cab driver tells him. Leon peers out at the house, Chris had moved himself to the desert, a ranch style place. He spotted the home made shooting range out back from here, typical.

"Thanks." He mutters, paying the driver and getting out. He stands at the foot of the drive for a moment, almost planning what he was going to say. Nevada was hot as hell, the sun beat down on his leather jacket and he's about to take it off when the door suddenly opens and Chris storms out, holding a fucking shotgun.

Was he serious?

Leon considers this for a moment and lifts his hands, taking a step toward him.

"Chris.."

"I told you not to fucking come here." Redfield barks.

"What are you gonna do, shoot me, really?" Leon asks as Chris continues to stalk toward him. "I just wanna talk."

Redfield advances and soon the barrel of the gun is in Leon's face. Fuck this. He swipes his hand out, knocking the gun aside and grasping it, he turns in to Redfields chest and sends an elbow up under his arm, wrenching the gun from his hand. He throws it behind him and Chris instantly swings with a right, catching Leon hard. He staggers sideways and Chris growls angrily, throwing another punch. Leon ducks and drives his shoulder in to Redfields middle, driving him back and into his own truck. Slamming him hard against it. Leon steps back and throws a punch of his own, cracking the other man's jaw. Chris drops and goes with it, taking Leon's legs out. He hits the dirt with a heavy thud that winds him. Instantly Chris is on him, seeing red, he strikes him twice and Leon spits out blood before driving his knee up in to Redfields groin. The other man roars pain and anger and Leon elbows him off of him. Scrambling to his feet.

"I don't wanna fight with you man." He pants, swiping his mouth.

Chris snarls, getting up. Leon holds his hands up like he's surrendering.

"I love her." He admits.

Chris laughs and swings. Leon ducks and kicks in return. An all out brawl on the dusty ground.

"STOP IT!" Claire yells at them, running out of the house. She'd been napping on the couch and woken to the commotion. Coming to the door she saw her brother and her boyfriend in an all out battle in the front yard.

She reaches them, grabbing Chris by the back of his shirt and pulling at him. "Chris stop it!" She yanks at him. Moving him only a fraction. She physically inserts herself between them and the two men come to a stop, both of them breathing hard and glaring at each other. "Stop." She demands, looking between them. "This is ridiculous."

"I told him not to come here, Claire." Chris warns.

"Did you even ask what I want?" Claire looks at him.

"If he gave a shit, he'd never have left."

"Like I can say no to the President." Leon hisses, swiping blood from his mouth.

"And what will the next excuse be, huh, hot shot?" Chris glowers at him over Claire's shoulder.

"You have no fucking idea what was going on.." Leon laughs at him. "And I didn't even know she was pregnant until I was overseas."

"Will you STOP!" Claire shouts, looking between them again. "It doesn't matter! Can we please just deal with now?"

Chris pulls himself away from her and puts his hands on his hips, spitting on the ground and eyeing Leon. "I'm just looking out for you."

"And I appreciate that." Claire nods. "But none of this helps. Beating on him, doesn't help."

"Makes me feel better." Chris admits, cracking his knuckles.

Leon snorts, rolling his eyes. "Look, I know I broke the code, the unwritten rules. Whatever. But she's right, it doesn't matter now. What matters is her." He nods to Claire.

"Yeah, you did. And because of you she has to put her whole life on hold." Chris snaps.

"Chris, I was there too." Claire reminds. "We both made a bad, drunk decision one night and here we are. If you're going to be angry at him be angry at me too."

"I am angry at you. I can't believe you'd be so stupid."

"Like you've never made a mistake." Claire chastises him.

"Not one that fucks up my future, no."

"Well aren't you perfect." Leon can't help himself.

Chris scoops up his shotgun and brandishes it. "What do you even see in him?" He asks his sister.

Claire shakes her head. "That is really none of your business."

Chris grumbles. "I think it is, if I'm the one that's going to be picking up the pieces and taking care of you."

"I'll take care of her." Leon cuts him off.

"How if you're always overseas? Being the Presidents errand boy?"

"I don't need taking care of. God." Claire snaps angrily, "you two are as bad as each other. I didn't come here because I need taking care of, Chris. I came here because I just wanted someone to talk to so I could figure this out. On my own."

Leon frowns. "You don't have to do it on your own."

"Yes, I do." She looks at him and his frown deepens. She turns to Chris. "Can you give us a minute."

Chris eyes her, then reluctantly nods. "If you need me.."

"I know." She gestures for him to go. Chris gives Leon one last glare and turns his back, heading toward the house.

"What do you mean you have to do this on your own?" Leon asks as Chris disappears inside.

Claire sighs, looking back to him. "Don't I?"

"No."

"You live in Washington."

"So come and live with me."

She laughs a little. "I need to stay in Chicago. I can keep going with college right up until a week or so before my due date."

He swallows a dryness in his throat. "But I'll never see you."

"I can't drop this. Not now. I've worked too hard. I can stay in college, I'll only miss about a month and they can give me extra classes to catch up." She looks at him sadly.

"Claire.."

"It's what I've decided, Leon." She says quietly, but firmly. "I'm not ditching years of work. I'm not starting over."

He looks down at the dirt. He'd miss everything if it played out like this. "I don't wanna miss the birth of my kid." He looks to her cautiously.

She shrugs. "So, figure it out. I'll get you the due date, maybe you can get some time off. Come stay until he or she arrives."

Leon narrows his eyes, nodding slowly. Then he draws a breath. "Why does this feel like the end?"

She folds her arms around herself. "Isn't it?"

"Not for me."

"I don't see how this works for us, I'm sorry." She sighs. "You have your life. I have mine. They're just going different places."

"You're having my baby. I'd say that puts us in the same place." He says with a sad laugh.

"It doesn't change much at all, actually." She sounded like her mind was made up. "I raised myself. I can raise a child."

"Claire.. I'm standing here offering you whatever you want. You don't have to do this alone. I don't want you to."

"You said you weren't ready to be a father. Is that true?" she asks.

He considers this. "Yes. But it doesn't mean I won't step up. If its what you want, then I will."

"See? What I want. Not what you want. Which means you'll resent me."

He bows his head, scratching the back of his neck. "You can't know how I'm going to feel. I don't even know it. All I know is I spent four days fighting for my life and all I could think was I had to get home to you." He gestures a little to her tummy, "to be there."

Claire bites her lip, an attempt to keep emotion from welling up and swaying her decisions.

"Didn't stop you sleeping with someone else though, did it." She murmurs.

He flinches, blinking and staring at her. "I didn't." He lies.

"Then what's that?" she asks, gesturing to the love bite on his neck.

"What's what?" He genuinely hadn't noticed it.

She grabs her phone from her pocket and snaps a picture, turning it to him.

"That's just.. a bruise.." he stammers. "I got lots of em over there."

"You're such a bad liar." She laughs bitterly. "I know what a love bite looks like, you've left enough on me. And the way you reacted when I said that? You gave it away."

He runs his hand through his hair and lets out a frustrated growl. "I knew the 'break' wouldn't mean shit."

"Forgive me but I kinda thought me telling you I'm pregnant would have changed something."

"You gotta let me know when the rules change, Claire. I'm not fucking psychic." He was angry now.

"Who was she?"

He laughs. "I'm not playing this game."

"Fine. Go home, Leon." She tells him.

He grabs her arm as she goes to turn away. "Don't do this. I love you."

She shakes her head. "Not enough."

It's like a blow to the heart, his hand tightens around her arm. "I want to be there. For you, for the baby."

"Then we will work things out, like grown ups. I'll let you know dates for things, you can make it or not."

"Why are you being like this?" he asks.

"Because I have to be. I can't uproot my life for you, and you won't do it for me. So this is how it needs to be."

"All or nothing? That's such crap."

"No, it's smart. Because anything else hurts like hell." She takes his hand, removing it from her. "I'm glad you want to be a part of this baby's life. We'll work on that. But we need to move on."

He couldn't believe what she was saying. Or how cold she was being. It was like an entirely different Claire. He'd imagined turning up here and arguing – yes. But he'd also pictured them working it out. He'd pictured her in his arms by the end of the day, where she belonged. He'd never imagined she'd break it off with him. That wasn't how this was supposed to go.

"What about the original plan? When you're done with college? You were going to come to Washington." He says quietly.

She nods, "maybe. We'll see." Smiling sadly at him, she nods to the road. "You should go."

"I fought through hell to get here, Claire." He mutters.

She bows her head for a moment, then gives him a small smile. "I'm glad you're okay." She says quietly, then she turns away. Heading back to the house. Leon watches her go, speechless.

"You gonna make him walk back to the city?" Chris asks her as she comes back in to the house. "Its a thousand degrees out there."

Claire says nothing. She just bursts into tears, moving in to her brothers arms for comfort.

Leon meanwhile, sits on the edge of the road and pulls out his phone, calling another cab. His hands trembled a little, but he crushes down all thought of showing that emotion. He got through hell, he'd get through Claire.

Returning to the city, he takes a Las Vegas stripper back to his hotel that night and loses himself in her.

* * *

He'd returned to his place in D.C the next day, hungover, nursing even more war wounds and most of all, trying to glue back together a broken heart. He hadn't pictured it playing out like that, he hadn't counted on how hurt or angry she would be. Some part of him understood it, he'd let her down when she needed him the most. He'd given her a rotten answer to a life changing question and put his job before her. He'd handled it badly – and in life, you reap what you sow. It's a rough lesson to learn.

When he gets through the door of his apartment, he settles in to a four day long binge of alcohol and feeling sorry for himself. Of course, he gets drunk and he sends her messages. They start out amicable enough, but it soon dissolves in to another argument. He ends up throwing his phone across the room and ending up face down on his couch. He'd always turned to alcohol to fix his troubles, but this is the first time he really drinks for oblivion.

Spain echoed in his brain. He woke up in cold sweats as the Verdugo jumps out of the shadows at him, striking with its tail. He'd hear the voices of those villagers hollering at him while he was wide awake, he'd be in the middle of something and then it'd ring in his ear and he'd turn ready to fight. He was beginning to think he was losing his mind. It was just stress, misery and a lot of alcohol talking. He almost welcomes the first round of therapy as it comes. He's sent to a kindly woman in her 50's, with a New Jersey accent and a soothing smile. Normally he'd flinch away from the idea of needing help, but this time he admitted he needed it. He wasn't coping all that well.

He tells her about Spain. He tells her about Claire and the baby. It actually felt good to talk to someone. He usually talked to Claire – but who would he turn to now?

"Maybe she just needs time." His therapist says softly, "pregnancy especially early on is an emotional time for a woman. She's dealing with a lot of things, changes in her body, new hormones and an uncertain future. Try gently reminding her you're there for her, in time, once she sees you mean it. I'm sure she'll come around."

He nods slowly, thoughtful. "Hard to promise her I'll be there when work is always sending me away."

"She understands your job, and you can still be there for her on the road." She reminds. "Just be present. Don't turn her away."

He sighs, "guess its all on me, huh."

More pressure. Just what he needed. But she was right, it was all he could really do.

They end the session with a few breathing exercises he could do for when he woke up in a cold sweat or panic. Apparently they could give him medications to help deal with his 'PTSD'. He turns them down, for now. Preferring to stick to his alcoholic method of coping – of course, he doesn't tell her that.

He hits the gym and works off some tension, then returns home. Spaghetti and vodka, dinner of champions. He eats in front of the TV, with his feet up on the coffee table. It's mid way through an episode of Bear Grylls showing you how to survive in the desert by carving out the carcass of a camel that his phone rings. An unknown number. He was always a little hesitant with those, but he puts his plate aside and answers.

"Kennedy."

"How formal." A familiar voice purrs on the other side. He frowns.

"Ada?"

"There was me thinking you'd have forgotten all about me."

"How.. how did you get my number?" He asks, sitting up and putting his feet down on the floor.

"You were going to give it to me anyway."

"But I didn't."

"Always so hung up on the details." She laughs a little.

"What do you want?" he asks.

"I need your help." She says bluntly.

He frowns deeper, looking across his apartment as though she was standing right there. "You need _my_ help?"

"That's what I said."

"With what?" He couldn't say he wasn't curious.

"How much more leave do you have? I assume you're still on it."

"Another week." He answers.

"Would you be able to come to London?"

He closes his eyes for a second. What the fuck was happening. "What am I signing up for here?"

"I'll explain it all when you get here."

"No, explain now. Cause if this is something that's going to get me.."

"It's not going to get you in trouble. If anything, they'll be thanking you. But nobody has to even find out." She says in that sultry and oh so convincing tone of hers.

"Ada.."

"It's a two person job, and there's nobody I'd trust more. Come to London, I'll explain everything when you arrive and if you're still against it, I'll pay for your flight home." She actually sounded like she needed him.

There was nothing in the rule books that said he couldn't take an outside job if he wasn't on duty. It would just depend what it was. For all he knew, she could be looking to assassinate the Queen of England or something. He sighs heavily, gazing around his large and empty apartment. His other option was to sit and sulk here for another week – getting ignored by Claire.

"Alright." He says eventually.

* * *

 **April 27th, 2004**

 **London, England**

"You look like shit."

"Thankyou." Leon snorts as Ada greets him in the lobby of The Savoy hotel in London. The place oozed money, and he'd never felt less like he belonged in all his life. "You look expensive."

Her red lips curl in to a smile and she nods. "Thankyou." She was wearing a black pant suit with red details and red shoes. She really did look like she'd just stepped off a high end catwalk. "You also look like you haven't slept since I last saw you."

"I probably haven't." He nods, following her toward the elevators. Very aware he was the only person in this place wearing a leather jacket.

"Still suffering the Spanish hangover?" She asks, pressing a button to take them up.

"Something like that." He sighs, leaning against the shiny, mirrored wall. "I feel like I'd need to sell both my kidneys to stay here."

"The wonders of a business account." She flashes him a look. He was a strange one, he walked the walk and talked the talk, but didn't seem to understand yet how to play the game. He'd learn, in time.

"So what am I doing here?" he asks as they enter her room a short while later. She had a huge suite, and he really wondered who her employers were.

"All you ever want to do is talk about work." She says breezily, throwing the accusation at him again with a good natured smile.

"Kinda why I'm here, isn't it" He drops his bag down and watches her cross the room. She picks up a folder and brings it to him, dropping it down on to the desk beside them. He looks at it and opens it up, scouring the pages as she stands so close to him he could smell her perfume. Strangely, that's not his main concern, as he reads what's in the file. His face falling, turning to one of disgust. "Jesus."

"I highly doubt he's involved." She sighs.

"They're experimenting on kids.."

"Which is why it needs shutting down."

"But why not just get the British authorities to step in?" He asks, looking at her.

"Why do you think?" She looks back at him.

His jaw tenses. "Because they're being paid off?"

"Nothing talks louder than money. A few thousand in the back pockets of the right people, you can get away with anything." She says sadly.

"How did you even find out about this?"

"Lets just say I have connections." She looks him in the eye and he holds her gaze for a moment. Something there, something in her eyes that told a bigger story than she was offering.

"Did they do something to you?" he asks quietly. It was perhaps the first time he'd ever been able to read a small part of her.

She closes her eyes and looks away from him, back down to the file. "The bottom line is nobody will care if this is shut down. We save some children, we destroy their 'research', we eliminate some filth from the face of the earth. Even those that took the silence money won't care – they have their money and they no longer have to deal with their conscience. It's a win for everybody."

He looks back down at the images on the file, his stomach turning a little. "These kids are gonna need help."

"We'll get it for them."

He nods. "Alright. I'm in."

She turns a small smile to him. "Thankyou. It's a two person job to enter their building, double keycard – which I already have."

"Of course you do." He laughs softly.

"There's people there around the clock, so, tomorrow evening. We pay them a surprise visit."

"Shut this shit down." He finishes. "Feel like I need a Batman cape."

"Ready to add vigilante to your resume, Mr Kennedy?" She asks with a sultry smile.

He holds her gaze. "What do we do until tomorrow evening?"

"I can think of a couple of things." She purrs her words, leveling him with her eyes.

He lifts his hand carefully, tucking it into her hair and tracing his thumb over the delicate curve of her cheek. After a moment, she leans in and meets his kiss.

He ends up sat in an ornate armchair that likely cost more than his entire apartment, with this beautiful creature naked in his lap. Buried inside her, jeans around his ankles. He sits up, his arms wrapped around her as she rides him, working herself on him, clutching his shoulder and the back of his head. They're sweating and panting and desperate for release and when she finally finds hers, it triggers his. The way she tightens around him too much to bear, he finishes in her with a growl of relief between her breasts, then they still. Breathing hard, getting their bearings. After a little while in recovery he lifts his head, looking at her. Really taking her in. "You are so beautiful." He murmurs.

For a glimmer, he sees a reaction there. A softness. A girl taking a compliment. Then it goes and she gently pats his shoulder, easing off of him. "Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Get attached." She says over her shoulder as she heads to the bathroom. Repeating what she told him in Paris.

He sits there with his pants around his ankles, considering her for a while. She remained a mystery. A dangerous, enticing mystery. He wanted to know everything – and the fact that she withheld it all just spurred him on.

He gets up and pulls up his jeans, following her to the bathroom and in to the shower.

That evening, she shows him some of London. He jokes about her being his tour guide. It's another beautiful, historic city full of culture that felt beyond him. Of castles and towers and old streets that had been through two world wars. They have dinner overlooking the city, and when they return to her room she pours them drinks and they discuss strategy. Going over the blueprints of the building that of course she had, planning their route, planning the way out. Planning the anonymous tip to child services and the authorities. All going well, this should wrap up in a neat little package – and they would have injected some good in to the world.

Not only did she have blueprints and keycards, she had an arsenal of weaponry also. Most importantly, his favorite make of sniper rifle. It's the first to come in handy as they arrive at the industrial location. It masqueraded as some kind of packing plant. Underneath? Laboratories for a group trying their hand at getting in to the Bio Terror business, via the usage of children. Street kids. The unwanted. Vulnerable. Fuck these people.

He takes aim at the security camera, a tiny dot on the horizon from where they are. He hits it with ease and Ada's suitably impressed. Watching him as he takes out each of them with swift precision and eventually sits back on his heels, lifting the rifle.

"You're good at that." She comments quietly.

"I think I had a distance record for a while." He shrugs a shoulder, "I don't know. I don't keep track."

"So humble." She muses.

He throws her a wink with a little click of his tongue and he packs the rifle away. Switching guns. "Lets get this done."

She nods and they swiftly exit their little hiding place, moving like ghosts toward the building. She'd definitely had military training of some kind, she moved with the same precise poise. He can't help but watch her a little as they go, it was the first time he'd ever seen her all in black.

They reach the doors and the card panels were a fair distance from each other. She holds up a hand, three fingers. Counting down without a word. On her mark, they swipe at the same time. The little light switches from red to green and with a small buzz, the doors open. They crouch, Leon peers around the corner and finds the camera, taking it out. They move in a perfect tandem down the corridor, guns drawn. Ready for resistance.

They find it swiftly, and two broken necks later they're moving on. Cameras go out, security go down. They sweep through like they'd been working together for years. The only gunfight they encounter is in the first of the labs, two men waiting for them. Someone had obviously been alerted. They take brief cover behind an upturned metal table, then dart out from it together. Ada jumps on to a desk and directly on to the shoulders of one of them, Leon shoots out his knee and Ada drives him skull first in to the ground. Leon takes out the next by smashing his head in to a glass cabinet and letting him fall. A swift, clean shot to the head.

Ada stops by a computer and Leon guards the door while she works. Typing, inserting a memory card, downloading data. That done she switches to a disc.

"What are you doing?" He asks.

"Making sure they can't do this again." She says, hitting a key and uploading a nasty virus to their system.

Three guards arrive and Leon handles them while she works. Then she gathers all the things up and they hurry down the corridor. The next lab, they find the children. Leon momentarily feels his stomach turn, then they set to setting them free. Six kids, no more than young teenagers, dazed and confused. As more resistance arrives he leaves Ada to handle the kids and takes out the scum responsible. A new rage set in him, they meet violent ends at his hand. He never usually liked the part where he had to kill humans. Humans were tough, he always thought about their homes and their families. It wasn't like killing the already undead or parasite infested freaks. It was different, it did something to you each time. But this time? People that could use children? Fuck them.

He hurls a knife and it embeds in the last ones skull, as Ada hurries the kids out in to the hall.

"Don't look that way." She tells them, guarding them from Leon's bloodbath. "Here." She hands one of them a keycard. "Go all he way to the double doors, use this. Run."

"We should go with them. They'll need someone." Leon speaks up.

"We have one thing left to do. They'll be fine." She looks over her shoulder at him, then back to the kids. "Keep running until you see a little cafe. Go inside, tell them to call the police. They'll be expecting the call."

Leon frowns a little. That wasn't what they'd discussed.

"GO!" she shouts at the children, and they run.

"Ada.." he looks at her as she turns back to him.

"We need them out of here."

"Why?"

She holds up an explosive charge and he grits his teeth. "You never said anything about levelling the place."

"We don't have much time."

"What is this, really?" He demands as they begin a jog toward the next corridor.

"Exactly what I told you." She promises.

He lets out a small growl of annoyance but follows her. Eventually reaching another closed door. She swipes a card and enters a code, they enter with their weapons drawn. It's Ada's turn to sound angry. "Dammit, they moved him already." She snaps to herself, making Leon look over at her.

"Who?"

She kicks a metal chair and it clatters against a cabinet. She doesn't answer him. Back on a computer, she scans through files. Leon arrives behind her, looking over her shoulder, catching a glimpse of what she was looking at.

"Who is that? Why are we here?"

And just like that, she turns a gun on him. "Back off."

His eyebrows shoot up and he stares at her. "Ada.."

"Let me work."

"What is this?!" He demands, gun to his chest or not. She wouldn't shoot him, he felt it.

"I have to stop them."

"Stop who? From doing what?"

She angrily holsters her gun, going back to the computer. "From ruining more lives." She mutters.

He stares at the back of her head, studying her. "Like they ruined yours?" He asks quietly.

She doesn't answer. She doesn't need to. He hears more footsteps and draws his gun. "I'll handle it."

He does as promised, wiping out the security that threatened to shut her down. She sets her charges and they leave via the planned escape route. By the time they're safely clear of the building they can already see flashing blue lights of the police, gathered around the cafe in the small village from their spot further up a hill. Ada lifts her hand and detonates the devices. Blowing whatever that lab had really been to pieces. Leon studies her as she does it, her face, the fire reflecting in her eyes. In the darkness, lit by the golden glow of the flames, he'd never seen her look more beautiful.

"Whatever it is, is it over?" he asks.

She shakes her head. "Not until he's dead."

"Who?"

She looks at him with the first emotion he'd ever seen in her. "My father."

He blinks and she turns, making her way back toward where they'd left a car. For a moment he doesn't follow, he just watches her. It was like the more he got to know about her, the less he knew. The more questions were raised. With a small shake of his head he jogs to catch up to her. They make their way briskly across fields to the country road bridge they'd left the car under, the sound of sirens and fire far away now. Reaching it, he gently takes her arm before they get in.

"You can trust me, you know that?" He asks her.

She doesn't answer. Instead, she grabs his face and pulls him in to a kiss. its instantly fierce and passionate, needy. He turns them, pressing her up against the car, tugging at the fastenings on her leather pants and dipping his hand inside. She moans in to his mouth as his fingers find her. She grabs at his leather coat, urgent and wanting. He strips her of those pants and she yanks at his belt, drawing him out, he grabs the back of her thighs and lifts her. Pinning her to the car, she guides him and he drives himself in to her, making them both hiss and gasp. In a dark, shady place – by the light of the moon and the sound of sirens, they fuck away whatever was chasing her. Whatever was chasing both of them. Seemed like the past was never all that far behind, not when you lived in their world.

When they're sated, they stay where they are. Ada pinned to the car, her legs wrapped around his waist, still impaled on him. Their foreheads rest together, one another's breaths hot on their cheeks.

"Thankyou." She whispers.

He chuckles. "For the orgasm.. or?"

She laughs a little with him. "Both."

"You're welcome." He murmurs.

Back at the hotel a couple of hours later, he takes a shower while Ada goes through a few of the files she'd salvaged from the lab. A sad grimace on her face as she goes through them. She hadn't told Leon the whole truth, of course she hadn't. You couldn't give everything away. But she also hadn't lied to him. This wouldn't get him in trouble, it would likely never even be brought up. People like her adoptive Father weren't talked about, not if you wanted to stay alive.

She didn't know her real parents. She had no idea who they were. She had no idea where she was born. All she knew was she was adopted by an English man and had grown up in Florida.

She hadn't had a childhood.

The room phone rings and she looks up and toward the bathroom. The shower was still going. So she gets up to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Hi.. uh... who's this?"

She frowns. "I would have thought you would know?"

"Maybe I was put through to the wrong room." The female voice sighs. "My boyfri.. my ex.. boyfriend. Gave me the hotel number if I needed anything."

Ada glances toward the bathroom, folding her arm around herself. "This is Ada Wong. Who are you looking for?"

There's a stammering. "Um.. Leon. Leon Kennedy."

"Is this Claire?" Ada asks curiously.

"How do you.. right.. Raccoon City." She sounded like she was going to gag on her words.

"He's in the shower. I can get him for you?" Ada purrs.

"No. It's.. no. I'll.. just tell him my first trimester scan is in two weeks. Bye."

With that, Claire Redfield hangs up.


	11. Uncomfortably Numb

**Authors Note:** Odd chapter, trying to summarize Degeneration without rehashing the movie entirely. Hopefully it works, and if you haven't seen it, see it. Onward!

* * *

 **I dont care, no I wouldn't dare**  
 **To fix the twist in you**  
 **You've shown me eventually what you'll do**  
 **I dont mind**  
 **I dont care**  
 **As long as you're here**

 **Go ahead and tell me you'll leave again  
** **You'll just come back running  
** **Holding your scarred heart in hand  
** **It's all the same**

 **And I'll take you for who you are**  
 **If you take me for everything**  
 **And do it all over again**  
 **It's all the same**

 **\- Sick Puppies, "All the Same"**

 _^ Another anthem for this story, give it a listen_

* * *

 **Present Day**

His chest felt like it was on fire and he stares at the puddle of blood in the palm of his hand. Breathing was hard, it took effort to suck in air and it made his whole body feel weak. This would probably be how he would die some day. Old and frail, his damaged lungs finally giving out and drowning him. He coughs, grabbing a handful of kleenex and spitting more of his own blood in to it. The damage done to his body in 2004 was irreparable – nothing anybody could do. He didn't know about it at the time, it had been a while before this particular affliction had reared it's head. But this is what you get when you use a crude laser system to remove a parasite from your chest, with no training or any real idea how the machine worked or what the settings should be. It had done the job, neither he or Ashley had become slaves to a demented terrorist. But it had had a price.

Everything had a price. He'd learned that over the years. Even your best intentions came at a heavy cost.

His wife arrives behind him, bringing him a glass of water and two small tablets that would help him. The best the Government doctors could do for him, really. Short of giving him whole new lungs.

"Breathe.." she soothes, rubbing his back in gentle comfort as he takes the glass and swallows down the tablets. When he lowers the drink, blood swirls in the water, making both of them grimace. She breathes with him – she soothed the panic that threatened to rise when you couldn't get in a decent lungful of air. He closes his eyes, listening to her voice, pushing down the fear and focusing on his breath.

She got him through. She always did. She'd been a rock for him for years and he'd be lost without her.

"Is Daddy okay?" little Lily's voice asks cautiously behind them. His wife quickly turns her attention to the five year old, smiling gently.

"Just a cough, sweetpea, he'll be fine." She soothes his daughter too while he fights to get his voice back. He hated Lily seeing him like this, but his coughing echoed around the house, it was tough to hide. Lily didn't know what her father had done for a living for so many years. She didn't know about the things he'd seen, the battles he'd been through, or the damage it did to his body. She knew he had scars, she'd even asked him about some of them. He'd told her as gently as he could that her Daddy had to fight some bad guys a long time ago. She'd asked him if he meant 'like a superhero'. He told her he supposed so.

Her favorite Superhero was Spiderman. But she also really liked Wonder Woman. She even had the gauntlet and the headband and would sometimes run around the house pretending she was saving the world. It always made him smile – he could see her Mothers fire in her, always.

One day he'd explain. One day he'd tell her about the things he'd done. But five was too young a mind to blow with the details, for now, he was happy to let her think he used to work with Iron Man and Wolverine. That his scars came from fighting Loki and Ultron. It was fine. She was a child, she deserved to hold on to that innocence and that wonderful imagination as long as she could. Lord knows it was a luxury so many of them had had stripped away way too early.

The tablets begin to take effect, and he pushes his hair back from his face, looking at himself in the mirror. He breathes through his nose and out through his mouth, finally beginning to feel oxygen reach his lungs. He listens to the sound of his wife and his daughter in the bedroom, talking about what they were going to make for dinner. She wanted 'Basgetti'. Spaghetti to you and I, but Lily called it Basgetti. Stepmother and child reach an agreement on what to make, and he smiles to himself.

A smile that falters a little when he thinks about how close he came to becoming a father much earlier in his life. How old would that child be now, if it had made it? He'd have a son or daughter that was just entering adulthood themselves. It was strange to think about, and he did think about it, more often than he let on to anybody.

On the day that Claire told him she was pregnant, his life had changed. He'd walked in to a one man battle armed with frustration and anger and fear. He'd set it free on a whole village and island of people. It had fuelled him, spurred him on. If anything, knowing that everything was about to change had gotten him through it. He had to get home, he had to survive, he had to make it through this because she would need him. Because he wanted to be there for her. Because he wanted to meet their child.

Amidst the fear and the feeling that he wasn't ready, there had also been hope. Hope for that life he kinda craved but never admitted. The Leon that was just a small town Colorado kid, with dreams of family and home. Maybe having a child would change everything, maybe it would be his escape. The Government couldn't force him away for months at a time if he had responsibilities at home, surely? On the flight back to the USA, the thought of being a Dad, doing the things his own Father had done with him growing up, teaching and nurturing – it seemed appealing. It seemed peaceful. It seemed like his way back to a normal life.

He wanted it. He wasn't ready. But he wanted it.

Sometimes the life changing events don't happen dramatically, though. There's no storm, no warning, no battle or fight for your life. Sometimes the life changing moments happen quietly in the middle of the night – a whisper, nothing more.

Leon washes his own blood from the palm of his hand and watches as it swirls away down the drain. Sometimes the worst scars were the ones you got in silence. Scars of the heart. They seemed to hurt even more.

* * *

 **June 2nd, 2004**

Leon hadn't seen Claire since Nevada. Since his fight with Chris and since she told him that they were over. That she wanted to move on with her life and carry their baby alone. She wanted to focus on school and work and maybe once she was done with that, they could reassess their situation. He couldn't hate her for it, not really. She was the sensible one out of maybe all of them, she was getting qualifications under her belt, actually building herself a future amidst all that had happened in their world. She still had faith in people being able to change everything. That she could be a part of that – a driving force, a healing soul. She was learning how to manage business and people, and she was also learning how to heal. She worked incredibly hard, it really was too much to throw away because they didn't use protection one night.

He couldn't hate her. He understood. But it was hard.

Ada had been a little thrown by the phonecall at the Savoy hotel. He'd emerged from the shower and she'd been sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for him. An accusatory look of sorts, all folded arms and pursed lips. It was something of a surprise to find out the elusive Ada Wong was actually capable of being effected.

 _"What.. what's wrong?"_

" _Just took a very interesting phone call."_

 _"Oh?"_

 _"Hmm. Claire Redfield. She told me to tell you her first trimester scan is in two weeks time."_

 _"... oh."_

 _"You got her pregnant?"_

 _"Uh. Yeah. It wasn't planned or anything it just kinda.."_

 _"Accidents happen?"_

 _"I guess."_

 _"Children aren't accidents, Leon. They're a gift. You should go back to her."_

 _"She doesn't want me."_

" _She will."_

The mystery of Ada deepened. She'd seemed haunted in that conversation, like it had touched a nerve. A part of her she couldn't keep under her very well created mask. There was a living, breathing woman underneath the red lips and leather – and she was hurt by something. Maybe even driven by it.

He'd returned to the USA the next day, and he'd returned to duty a few days after that. He wouldn't hear from Ada again for quite some time.

It was strange seeing Ashley again, strange but good. He'd greeted her with a smile and a hug and she'd talked at a thousand words per second about everything she'd gone through since getting home. Asking if they had him in the same therapy as she was, and if he ever got pain in his chest too. At that point, he hadn't really. But he'd soon learn what she was talking about.

He accompanied the President and his family on a good will tour, their protector in the shadows. Settling in to his new role and doing it well. Getting used to the expensive hotels and private jets – even dressing in a suit. He discovered a black suit and a pair of sunglasses had a strange effect on women, they threw themselves at him more often than usual. I couldn't tell you he hated it, or that he turned it down. A single man now, he could do what he wanted.

He fucked the Australian Prime Ministers personal assistant in a stairwell.

He didn't make it to that first trimester scan. He was in Japan. But when he finally returned home, there was an envelope waiting for him with a photograph inside. It had made him stop and sink in to a chair at his kitchen table. Staring at the fuzzy picture, the perfect outline of a baby. His baby. He was a father. They were bringing a human in to the world. It had hit him in the heart and the soul and he'd called her immediately. A little surprised she actually answered, he asks her to tell him everything. Claire seemed heartened to know he was interested. Giving him her due date and all of the details so far. He marks that date down and vows to get the time off. He'd be there. He had to be.

It gave him renewed purpose. He had to save the world now because they were bringing a child in to it. It had also made him a little ancy, as much as his job was an amazing one and he could afford things like an actual car of his own – he felt like he should be doing more. Like his talents were being wasted looking out for a handful of very important people instead of the whole world. He'd brought it up to the President.

It had spurred on a whole new project. Something that would eventually become the Division of Security Operations, further down the road.

May had been a busy and interesting month. But then June 2nd arrived and once again, everything changed. Not in a big, dramatic way. But a quiet whisper in the dark. One that had left him feeling a little lost.

He was sound asleep, knocked out by a good few drinks and some really energetic sex. Face down on his bed, sheets barely covering his ass and the arm of the woman he'd bedded slung over his lower back. Her name was Kelly, she worked at the White House, a secretary that wore pencil skirts and blouses you could see her bra through. They'd made eyes at each other a while, then bumped in to each other at the gym. She had a yoga body, toned and tight and perfect. The tits were fake, but tasteful. She was sweet and funny, they actually hit it off pretty well. Maybe in another life he and Kelly could have been the perfect couple, they certainly looked the part. She was blonde and blue eyed and always perfectly manicured, she complimented him when she was on his arm and wearing a suit.

He didn't normally get drawn to blondes, but she had something about her. This was their fourth 'date', and the fifth time they'd fucked. It could have been something eventually, maybe.

His beeping phone wakes him up, bleary eyes opening. He reaches out instinctually, grasping it from the bedside table and looking at the time. 2.43am.

Claire.

He blinks, glancing at Kelly and then easing himself up. She makes a noise and turns, still asleep as he slips out of bed and pads naked out of the room. He draws the door up behind him and accepts the call.

"Claire?" he says quietly.

There's a quiet sigh on the other end of the line. She doesn't say anything for a moment, all he can hear is her breathing, then the tiniest sniffle.

"I'm here, talk to me." He murmurs, lifting a hand and scratching the back of his neck.

"Sorry it's late." her voice sounded thick with sadness and his heart sinks.

"It's fine. What's the matter?" it's a gentle question, coaxing.

"I lost the baby." She whispers it.

His hand stops scratching and he stands there, quietly frozen. A tangle of feelings knotting themselves inside. "W.. what happened?" He asks in a breath.

"I don't know. Just.. body decided it wasn't meant to be, I guess." He hears her sniff and her voice crack.

He sits down. "Are you okay?"

"I'm alright." She sighs. "It just kinda happened. Cramps and then..." she trails off. He hears her get a tissue from a box.

He didn't know what to say.

"Doctor said its pretty common, like 20% of pregnancies end in it.."

"I'm sorry." He says sadly.

"Good news is you're off the hook." She says it with a small laugh and it's like a barb that digs in to his skin. He frowns, rubbing his forehead.

"I didn't wanna be off the hook."

"Well you are."

"Claire.." He runs his hand over his face, sighing heavily. He wasn't going to fight with her, not now. "Do you need anything? Is there anything I can do?"

"No."

"I can come out, I'll tell work there's an emergency, take care of you for a while." He offers.

"I don't need taking care of." She almost snaps it. He closes his eyes. Forcing himself not to react. She was hurting – he felt the loss too, but for her he knew it was ten times worse, she actually had to go through it.

"Alright." He answers in a gentle tone. "Well let me know if you do need anything."

"I don't. I just.. need to get my life back." She responds through tears, and he nods. "I just thought you should know."

He's quiet, staring out of the window of his apartment.

"Bye, Leon." She whispers.

He swallows down a lump in his throat. "Bye, Claire."

Never had anything felt so completely final.

The line went dead and for a time he sits there still holding the phone to his ear, lost in his own thoughts. Eventually he lowers it, placing it carefully on the table. It was over, just like that. No more wondering about who they were bringing in to the world. No more plans, no more imagining himself throwing a ball with his son or learning how to braid his daughters hair. No more escape to a life more normal than this. Nothing. It was just over.

"Everything okay?" Kelly's voice breaks in to his melancholy and he blinks, swiping a hand over his face to get rid of the tear there, he clears his throat.

"Yeah." He answers quietly as she draws up behind him, moving her hands over his shoulders.

"Well come back to bed." She purrs.

"In a minute." He nods.

"I'll make it worth your while." She walks her fingers over his chest, leaning in and nipping at his ear.

"I just need some time."

"For what?" She kisses his neck.

He makes a face. "The love of my life just lost our baby." He says flatly, annoyed by her persistance. Kelly stops what she's doing. "Kinda not in the mood."

"The love of your life?" she questions indignantly.

He almost laughs. "That's the part of that statement you're concerned about?" he asks her.

"Well who is she?"

He rolls his eyes. "Her names Claire, and I've known her for years."

"You should have told me about her." She snaps.

"We're broken up."

"But she was having your baby."

"Was. Yeah." he finally turns to look up at the seemingly offended blonde. "Unbelievable."

"What?"

"Go home, Kelly. We're done here." He gets up and walks away from her, back in to his room where he puts on sweatpants and she swiftly follows him. Demanding to know what he meant by that.

It swiftly dissolves in to a nasty fight, and when he finally gets her out of his front door and locks it behind her, he leans his forehead against the wood. He vows that that's it, he's done with women. He's done trying to make them happy, of trying to build something somewhere that might last. A kind of numb cold settling in.

That was the night Leon detached, and stopped getting attached.

He worked. He drank. He survived.

He didn't see or hear from Claire for over a year.

* * *

 **November 2005**

In that year, Leon became a different man. Having lost the only person he loved, and the hope she brought with her – the hope for a normal life that the pregnancy had brought about. He threw himself in to his work, in to honing himself in to the most efficient weapon he could be. When he wasn't working, he was in the gym, a strict new regiment of over two hours a day, shaping and sculpting his body. As the times changed, so did the forms of combat. He learned them all, it kept him busy. He barely slept thanks to the nightmares that plagued him and so he occupied his mind and his time with making himself better any way he could. He also worked alongside the President when it came to combating Bio Terror. He was the first person they turned to when they needed expert advice or strategy – it became pretty obvious to the President himself, that Leon's talents were wasted as personal security.

He remained under the charge of the White House, but became the savage blade they sent in when an outbreak occurred. When the odds were stacked. He taught Special Response Teams how to combat the undead, how to stay alive. He took pride in it.

Nothing else to live for.

He didn't have relationships or even attempt to have them. He'd pick up a girl in a bar and satisfy those urges and that would be that. No attachments, no getting close, no exchanging numbers or getting to know each other. He didn't want to think about the future or what could be. He lived firmly for the now, each day one at a time. It wasn't especially healthy, but it was incredibly effective. A lot of people were still alive because a detached Leon Kennedy rode in to town to save them. A war machine, built to end the threat of Bio Terror. That was his life.

On November 15th, 2005, he was sent to Harvardville in the wake of a terrorist attack. The T Virus unleashed on a plane and inside an airport. Someone looking to send a loud and scary message. It was nothing new to Leon, he'd been chasing and connecting the dots since Raccoon City. Another job, another city, another team to teach.

He'd never expected Claire to be there.

He'd never expected to have the armor he'd built around himself, cracked. But the one thing he'd never been able to switch off was his empathy. It was a good thing, it kept him from becoming the thing he'd always feared he might. Another soulless soldier like Krauser.

Angela was the kind of woman that drew him anyway. Beautiful, dark haired and deadly. The attraction had been instant. But as her story began to unfold in front of him, he felt that empathy tugging at him. Another life ruined by this plague, another family torn apart. He wanted to help her, get her the answers she needed, as well as put an end to this mess. As they swept the halls of the airport together, he saw the flash of cherry red hair and for a moment – thought he was imagining things. It couldn't be Claire, why would she be here?

But there she was.

There was no time to think about how to approach her or what to say. He yelled at her to 'get down' and took out the undead, crawling up behind her. The look in her eyes when he offered her his hand – haunted, surprised, familiar.

"Leon! What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing." He says as he helps her to her feet. Their hands hold for a fraction longer than intended, their eyes steady on each other. Before the moments broken up by the arrival of Angela and the small team. Their hands part in tandem and Claire brushes herself off, catching Angela's eye – exactly the kind of woman Leon was drawn to. She instantly doesn't like her.

"There are more survivors?" Leon asks her, all business.

Claire nods. It was awkward, hard to look at him. "This way." She gestures. He doesn't walk beside her like he normally would, he walks a step behind her. Her stomach in knots now far worse than it had been with just the outbreak.

"So why are you here?" He asks her in a voice she didn't recognize. It was cold, far away. Leon's usual warmth had gone.

"I was coming to visit my niece." She explains.

Leon frowns. "She wasn't caught up in this, was she?"

"Afraid so, she's with the rest of the survivors." She looks back at him. He gives her a tight nod and they round a corner to the VIP lounge.

He kept his distance, there were no hugs and no time to catch up. No time for pleasantries or fights. They had to stay alive. Seeing her standing there in that VIP lounge, holding her young niece like a nurturing parent, stabbed him through the heart and made the first dent in that well structured armor he'd built. What could have been. She would have had the baby by now – their lives might have been so different.

As they begin on their escape route, they make the smallest of small talk. She tells him she'd finished college and was working full time for Terra Save. But as it turned out once they escaped the airport, it was Terra Save's actions that made the Harvardville situation all the worse. The look in her eyes as it dawned on her.. he had to say something. No matter what had happened between them, she didn't deserve to blame herself for something that simply wasn't her fault. So he'd taken her aside and offered what comfort he could. It was strange to be alone with her again. Strange and awkward, with so much unsaid between them that it hung in the air heavier than either of them could bear. She wondered what had become of him – it was like a light had gone out in him. A spirit crushed. Had she done that?

"You chose a path that your brother and I couldn't follow. You weren't wrong."

She looks up at him as he offers his words of reason and comfort. "Leon, thankyou." She says quietly and offers him a little smile. "You always seem to know what to say." She adds.

He looks down and away from her, checking his gun although he didn't need to. He didn't know what to say to her at all. There was so much, yet nothing that would come.

"How have you bee.." Her question is cut off by an explosion outside. Their world was never peaceful for long.

They'd gone their separate ways and he'd turned his attention to Angela, tracking down her brother. They worked well as a team, she drew strength from him and he knew it. He liked her, however much he tried to crush it down.

His path crossed with Claire's again, finding her injured inside the destroyed offices of the Will Pharma building.

"That's a nasty wound, we've got to get you out of here."

"I'm alright! Listen to me." She snaps as she swipes his hands away from her, like she couldn't bear for him to touch her. She explains what had happened and what she had seen, and eventually she allows him to help her and to the elevators.

"I'll call for a field medic to pick you up."

"I can handle it, stop worrying about me." She tells him off once again as they enter the lift. He quiets, pressing the button for the floor they needed.

That tension didn't seem to want to go away, and it tangled a knot inside him that they'd really never be the same again. He'd lost his best friend, as well as his love.

"Claire. Try not to get killed."

"Okay. Ditto."

And then she threw him a wink as they said their goodbyes and the elevator doors closed, a little smile, an echo of what they were.

It had thrown him. Was there hope for them?

Perhaps the chaos of emotions inside him had led to him forming a bond with Angela. He didn't know. All he knew was as they finally stood there in the wake of destroying her brother, he couldn't bring himself to let go of her hand. He'd wanted to kiss her, or say something. For a moment he'd wanted to feel again, let someone in. For a minute he'd wanted to hope again. Was he really ready to do that? The decision was made for him though, as his phone shattered the peace of the moment and he answered Hunnigans call. He didn't know that Claire had been watching it all on a security camera.

She'd watched him save the girl, watch him risk his life once again to keep someone else safe. He was still the hero she met back in Raccoon City. He was still Leon. Just a Leon that had had his heart smashed to pieces. Maybe she'd been wrong back then, maybe he really had wanted their baby. Maybe she'd pushed him away harder than she should have. In that moment she felt deep regret for the way she'd handled things. She'd watched him roll that woman out of the way of falling debris, and she'd felt a knot in her stomach as he lay over her, the two of them gathering their thoughts in the wake of such a close brush with death.

Jealous. She'd felt jealous. A feeling that had only gotten worse as the two of them rose and continued to hold hands. She'd watched and waited, holding her breath, willing him not to kiss this other woman.

"Don't do it, Leon. Don't." She murmurs at the screen.

She couldn't bear to see it and yet she couldn't look away. The sigh of relief she lets out when his phone rings and they pull apart – _she_ could kiss whoever it was that had called him.

Harvardville had been strange for them both. More than a battleground in the ongoing war against Bio Terror. It had been a no man's land for their hearts. A melancholy reunion neither of them had expected but had perhaps come at just the right time in their lives. Seeing each other again after so long brought those scars to the surface. But they also realized that after over a year, those scars were just that. Old wounds, long since healed. Maybe it was time to build something new in their place.

Maybe.

* * *

 **Christmas Day, 2005**

He didn't have the time off of work to go back to Colorado and spend Christmas with his Father. So instead he spent Christmas day alone. That was fine, he ate Chinese food and watched old movies, kicked back on his couch, giving himself a rare day off from the gym. Complete rest and relaxation. He was used to being on his own at this point, it was probably what was best for him. Lone wolf, it was kinda his thing.

He's mid way through Home Alone when there's a knock at his door. It makes him hesitate, nobody ever really visited him. He wasn't the most social guy out there, tended to keep to himself unless he was bringing a woman home. The soldier in him instantly thinks it might be a threat of some kind, but he tells himself off for that. This building had security, he was just being paranoid. So with that in mind he pushes himself up and pads bare chested to the door.

When he opens it, he has the surprise of his life.

"Claire.."

She stood there in a red leather jacket and black jeans and boots, her cherry hair up in a cute knot with falling curls that framed her face. And she wore a smile. She looked really.. really good.

"Hey." She says softly, presenting him with a bottle of expensive whiskey. "Figured, you showed up at my door a complete surprise often enough. It's my turn. Thought we could maybe.. bury the hatchet?"

His hand, which had been clutching the side of the door, slides down it and then reaches out to take the bottle. Stepping aside to let her in. "That sounds good." He smiles at her, a small nod of his head. She clutches her hands in front of herself and while it's awkward, it's like the tension of Harvardville has lifted. She steps inside and glances around as he closes the door behind her.

"How did you know I was even home?" he asks her as they drift over to the couch.

"I was going to head to Colorado, but I figured I better call your Dad first, make sure it was okay. He told me you couldn't get the time off." She explains, sitting down – more or less perching on the edge of the seat. He places the bottle down on the table.

"Yeah, back on duty at 6am." He sighs, sitting cautiously beside her.

"That sucks."

"President doesn't stop being the President, even over the Holidays."

"At least you got today off?" She shrugs, glancing at the TV. "Oh, I love this movie."

"I know." He laughs softly, "I remember."

She looks back at him, the pair of them gazing at one another for a moment. "Harvardville was kinda weird, huh." She says after a moment.

"Very." He nods.

"Did you ever go diving?"

He quirks an eyebrow, then shakes his head. "Nah, didn't even get her number."

"Oh." She nods. Inside, she was happy about that. "It all kinda.. made me realize how much I miss you." She says quietly, hesitantly.

He bites his lip, considering this for a moment. "I missed you too."

"Are you okay? You seemed.. really distant back there." She was concerned about him, she had been since he left on that chopper.

He shrugs. "Just treading water I guess."

"More awful missions?" she grimaces.

"Not really," he shakes his head. "I just lost my best friend."

Her lips down turn in to a sad frown and she sighs. "I'm sorry."

"Me too."

She reaches out and gently covers his hand with hers, his thumb strokes over her knuckle. "Maybe we could start over?" She asks after a moment. "Back to friends. I really miss that."

He nods, giving her hand a little squeeze. "That'd be good." He murmurs.

They smile, and eventually they hug. It felt nice to have her back there, back in his arms. Even if they were just friends. Perhaps that was all he was ready for right now too.

She shares his Chinese food and they settle to watch their old Christmas movies. Home Alone, Gremlins, Edward Scissorhands. Awake in to the night. Eventually, she falls asleep with her head in his lap. He doesn't move her, happy to watch over her. Happy she was home.

* * *

 **July 4th, 2006**

 **England**

Ada opens her eyes, her breath coming in quick pants. She was naked. Her hands were cinched behind her back and the same rope was wrapped around her neck. She was sitting doubled over, leaning forward, that rope then wound around her ankles. If she moved so much as a fraction, it began to choke her. She had to keep perfectly still to keep from strangling herself.

Which is really not easy when someone pours scalding or freezing water over you.

"Who was he?"

She shivers. The last bucket had been freezing, her hair plastered to her cheeks and water droplets hung off the end of her nose. She couldn't move.

"We know you didn't do it alone, so give us a name and this ends."

"I did it alone." She answers.

"Impossible."

The next bucket is scorching hot. She wants to scream, her whole body flinches and she chokes. Stay still. Stay still. Don't move. She clenches her eyes shut as her skin blistered, crying through her teeth and forcing herself to stay steady. She could do this. She could get through this. She'd been through worse.

"We need to know who he was, and what he knows about us."

"Nobody. Nothing." She manages, her whole body was shaking and there was nothing she could do about it. Adrenaline keeping her alive, keeping her going.

"You can stop this, Ada."

"I did it alone." She repeats.

Another scalding bucket of water is poured slowly over her.

Her scream echoes down the halls.


	12. Missing Pieces

**Authors Note:** Just a warning for some upsetting content, don't read if you're easily upset. Thanks as always for the love, and bring a bucket. It's getting messy.

* * *

 **Time after time, I walk the fine line**  
 **Something keeps bringing me back**  
 **And time after time, I'm going in blind**  
 **I don't know which way I need to go**

 **Do all these roads lead me back to you?**

 **\- P.O.D**

* * *

 **July 7th, 2006**

Leon gazes out of the window of the Presidents private jet, watching the country roll by miles below. The air felt like his second home these days, he spent so much time traveling to one place or another. The past six months had been a little crazy, they'd sent him back to Europe on a ghost mission, investigating further incidents involving the Los Illuminados cult. Leon was now considered the ultimate authority on them and the Plaga parasite, and apparently despite the fact he'd destroyed an entire island in the hopes of wiping them out – they still reared their ugly heads here and there. The parasite was still in play, and there were people trying to weaponize it.

He'd been sent back to Spain and moved on to the Czech Republic – a silent assassin. He'd cut two more heads off of the Hydra, but he was sure it was only a matter of time before it grew more. These things spread like a virus in themselves. Once something deadly was on the radar of black market traders and those that sought to control or condemn the world, it seemed close to impossible to take it out of play completely.

But that was his job. To try. To go where the intel sent him, to do what the orders told him.

Eight years he'd been doing this now, he felt every inch the veteran he was. Wise beyond his years in many ways, and his body told a tale. He'd amassed an impressive collection of scars and injuries. He nursed nerve damage in one hand and saw a chiropractor regularly to keep his back in check. It didn't stop him though, he was good at pain. Taking it, managing it, ignoring it. To people on the outside when he was in his gear and coming to kill them, he looked like a nightmare soldier. Deadly hero. But only one person got to see the real toll it took on him.

Only Claire ever saw him get out of bed wincing, or limping. Only she ever saw the man behind it all.

Not that they'd been to bed together in a long time. Not in a romantic sense anyway. Since repairing their friendship after over a year of not speaking, they'd resisted that particular urge. They lived their lives – separately. It was good. They kept in contact, they were there for each other and they talked often. He was thankful to have her back in his life. But he doubted there would ever be romance between them again. They'd been there, they'd tried that. It had ended terribly. The love was still there, for both of them. But maintaining their friendship had become more important to them than any urges that could crop up.

"Can I get you something to drink?" The sweet, blonde hostess asks him as she passes through, tending to the handful of passengers on this trip.

Leon blinks out of his thoughts and looks up to her, giving her a smile and a small shake of his head. "No, thankyou."

"Well you let me know if you do need anything." She beams right back at him. She was bending over just enough that he could see right down her blouse, and that was not an accident. He smirks a little, nodding.

"I will do that." He glances at her name badge. "Karen. You must be new?"

"My first flight." She admits, a blush rising in her cheeks.

Across from them, Ashley Graham clears her throat and smirks at him, rolling her eyes a little.

"Well you're doing a great job." He compliments.

Karen's cheeks redden considerably and she thanks him with a giggle. Excusing herself.

Leon looks from the woman's ass as she leaves, to his charge, Ashley. Who was sat opposite him toying with her phone and giving him a look.

"What?" He asks quietly, an amused smile on his face.

Ashley shakes her head. "I swear if you could make money fucking you'd be richer than I am."

He laughs, glancing back out of the window. "Don't tell me there's girl talk in the White House."

"Of course there is." Ashley says matter-of-factly, "women talk no matter what. Status, setting, all gossip all the time."

He rolls his eyes. "Of course they do."

"Like you didn't know."

Leon looks back to her. "And women say men are terrible. At least I don't kiss and tell."

"You don't brag about your conquests, Agent Kennedy?" She teases.

"Who would I brag to?"

"Right, of course. All work and no play makes Leon a dull boy." She says thoughtfully. "What DO you do for fun? Besides bang your way through the female population of Washington."

He puts his hand over his heart and laughs, "ouch. I'm not that bad."

"Maybe I'm a still a little offended you turned me down." She reminds with a smirk.

"Please, I value my neck." He snorts.

"That the only reason? That I'm the Presidents daughter? Because I won't be forever, you know." She challenges.

Leon sighs a bit, looking at her over the polished table between them. "That wasn't the only reason, no. And even once your fathers out of Office, you'll still be his daughter. And friends daughters are strictly off limits."

Ashley pouts, fiddling with her phone. "Well, bummer for me. I've heard such great things."

He narrows his eyes. "I'm not even going to ask."

"Big things." She adds. "Huge, even."

"I.. get the picture." he laughs in a breath, his own turn to feel a little embarrassed.

"So what were the reasons?" She presses.

He chews his lower lip for a moment, studying her. "Between us?"

"Of course." She nods, suddenly quite serious. For all of their banter and taunting, there was some bond they shared and had done since Spain. He trusted her, she trusted him. What they said always stayed between them.

"I'd just found out my girlfriend was pregnant."

Ashley's eyes widen a little and she sits back in her seat. "Oh, damn. Now I feel like an asshole."

He shrugs his shoulders and shakes his head. "Don't. It.. didn't work out."

"I didn't know you were a Dad."

"I'm not."

"Oh." She looked positively mortified and leans forward over the table, reaching out to him. "I'm sorry, I was just giving you a hard time."

"I know." He winks at her, giving her a comforting smile. "It's okay. She had a miscarriage, we broke up. But we're good now. Friends. So.. things worked out alright."

"That really sucks though. The world sure knows how to stick the knife in and twist, huh." Ashley sighs.

"I won't argue with that." He nods.

After a small silence, Ashley speaks up again, looking at him curiously over her phone. "So who was that woman in red, really? That wasn't your girlfriend, right?"

Leon looks up from his renewed gaze out of the window and considers this for a moment, then laughs a little. "No. She's just.." he tries to think of the best, casual way to sum up Ada, and he can't think of one. There was nothing simple about that woman and their 'relationship', whatsoever. "Honestly, I don't know what she is." He admits.

"Sounds complicated." Ashley pulls a face, tucking her hair back. It was longer now and sat neatly manicured just past her shoulders. She still wore it down and straight, but the bangs were gone.

"That's a word for it." He smirks. "Remember I told you about Raccoon City?"

"Of course." So many idle conversations on long flights together.

"She was there. We just seem to cross paths a lot. It's always strange.. and intense."

"Have you slept with her?"

He swallows, drumming his fingers on the table and frowning a bit. "Uhh, yeah."

"Do you love her?"

He blinks, staring at the younger woman as she hits him with that question. How DID he feel about Ada? He'd never really stopped to consider it. Claire had always been the woman he'd call the love of his life, even if they weren't together. Even if they were focused on friendship and nothing more these days. He loved her. She was the only one that held his heart in her hands – at least, that was what he always told himself. But Ada? He got a fluttery feeling in his stomach every time her name came up. When he was around her, he felt like some missing piece from his life was finally in place. He thought about her often, he spent many quiet moments wondering what she was doing and where she was. She was a mystery, she drew him like a moth to a flame. Beautiful, deadly, she challenged him and made him better. Made him want to BE better. Up his game. He wanted to know everything and she gave him nothing, and that drove him crazy.

Ada was his Unicorn. His Eleanor.

Did he love her?

"You do." Ashley says with a smile spreading across her face. "You totally do."

His jaw tenses and he frowns a little harder. "What makes you say that?"

"No man has to think that hard about whether or not he _doesn't_ love a woman." Ashley informs him, "that's a simple, quick answer. But there's never anything simple about love."

Leon studies her. "Okay, Oprah."

She laughs, "I was thinking I'd be great at hosting a talk show." She says thoughtfully, then focuses on him again. "So why aren't you with her?"

He draws in a deep breath, shrugging his leather jacket on his shoulders. "It just.. wouldn't work out."

"How do you know unless you try?"

He laughs a little, shaking his head. "I think I'm done with this line of questioning." He says quietly.

Ashley considers him for a moment, then nods. "Well your secrets safe with me."

"I know." He smiles kindly.

They were coming in to land. Leon and a small security team had accompanied Ashley to a 4th of July party that had involved an official public appearance, now they were returning to Washington. Ashley had become quite the activist for women's rights over the past year, using her experience in Spain as a way to identify with women that had been subjected to abuse, harassment and other torments. He was pretty proud of her. It took a strong person to take a trauma and turn it in to a positive to help others. She was setting up a foundation and he'd accompanied her to a few of her speaking engagements.

It was always fascinating to watch someone grow. She'd come a long way.

But she still cursed like a sailor and drove him crazy with her razor sharp wit. Some things never changed, and he was glad of that.

The disembark the plane and hit the tarmac. He passes her off to a White House security team and they share a brief hug before she gets in the car. "I'll see you in two weeks, right?" She asks as she gives him a squeeze.

"Think so, unless some world ending drama pops up somewhere and your father sends me away." He nods as they pull apart. "You take care, kid."

"I'm gonna be 60 and you're still going to be calling me kid." She rolls her eyes at him, ducking in to the blacked out vehicle.

He chuckles, getting his phone out and scrolling through to a number. It's only a second or two before Hunnigan picks up, and Leon signs off duty. He'd been on for six days straight, now he had a few days off.

"Don't suppose I can interest you in that drink?" Karen asks as she draws up beside him. Leon hangs up, pocketing his phone in his leather jacket and looking at her.

"Sure. Why not." He smiles.

* * *

Karen was loud, and her bed rattled against the wall of her small apartment. The sex was intense, fuelled by lust and vodka. They'd crashed through her door after she'd invited him up for 'coffee' and they hadn't even gotten their clothes off. His belt was undone, his jeans barely over his ass. Her skirt hiked up around her waist, panties pushed aside and blouse undone enough for him to get at her tits.

It was just the release he'd needed after six days on duty. Wild and urgent, and she had a filthy mouth that spurred him on. She clutches the bars of the headboard behind her and fills the apartment with her cries. Springs squeaked, things rattled. Something fell off the bedside table.

They crash in to bliss together and something about her sheer volume prompted his own, letting out a loud groan, cursing his way through his release. He slumps over her, panting. Basking in that glow.

"Wow." Karen sighs after a moment or two. "I'm going to need your number."

He lifts his head, getting his breath. "I don't date."

"Neither do I." She winks at him.

"Oh." He smirks. "Well, in that case."

He eases himself from her and kneels between her legs, taking care of things and tucking himself back in, zipping up. He pulls his phone from the leather jacket he hadn't even taken off and asks for hers. She reels it off, lying there still spread before him, casual as anything. He sends her phone a message, and presto, she has his number.

"What's your name again?" She asks.

He laughs, getting off of the bed and examining his hair in her mirror. "Leon."

"That's right." She yawns, turning on to her stomach. "You can see yourself out?"

"I can." He nods.

"Thanks for the orgasm."

"Likewise." He chuckles, leaving her there to nap or whatever it was she was going to do. He sees himself out.

It's a short cab ride back to his place, and when he reaches his floor he finds his suitcase from the trip left for him by the assistants, as well as some mail and a cardboard box, addressed to him. He picks it up and examines it, frowning. He hadn't ordered anything. Dismissing it for now he lets himself in and hauls his stuff in to the living room, setting the box down on the coffee table and leafing through the mail. Nothing interesting. He lets it hit the table with a soft slap and shrugs off his leather jacket and the holsters underneath. Beginning to unbutton his shirt as he heads to the shower to wash off the flight and the sex.

He emerges a short while later, comfortable in sweatpants and no shirt. Making himself a coffee and adding a dash of whiskey, he puts on some music and flicks on the lights. Dusk drawing in outside the windows. Taking a seat on the couch, he pulls the box over to himself, looking it over again. No return address, the postal stamp came from England. It had been shipped fast. He frowns, picking up a penknife from a dish on the table, he scores the tape holding it closed and carefully opens it.

The very first item is a old style tape cassette player. The kind reporters used to use to take notes and gets quotes out in the field. He frowns at it. Setting it down and drawing out the second item, a memory card in a plastic case. The two items sat on something soft. He reaches in, getting his fingers around the material and pulling it free. His heart skips a beat and he carefully lets the garment unfold. It was a red dress, perhaps more of a night gown. A slinky, sexy thing. But what makes the bile rise in his throat is the dark patches of blood that stained it.

"What is this?" He murmurs to himself, looking at the other two items. He chews his lip and grabs his laptop, pulling it over and switching it on. It seems to take forever for the damn thing to boot up, but once it has he inserts the memory card and clicks a few buttons. A moment later a file pops up. A video.

It's titled 'Watch me'.

Nothing titled 'Watch me' was ever anything good.

He clicks on it and a window opens, a video player. His breath catches in his throat.

"Ada.." he breathes.

She was in a dark, damp looking room. Wearing the red dress he'd just plucked from the box. She was seemingly unconscious, or just hanging her head. He wasn't sure. She hung from the ceiling by her wrists, rope cutting in to her skin. Her ankles bound tightly with what looked like duct tape. Her legs were dirty and bruised and at the sight of those bruises he feels an anger rise in him. The dress barely covered her, hanging there like that, and she isn't alone for long.

A large, muscled man moves in to frame and Leon's fists clench tightly. He wore a mask and said nothing. He realizes the camera isn't static, it's being moved. Someone else was holding it but also not saying a word. The large man moves up in front of Ada and takes her chin in his hand, lifting her face. Her eye was blackened and she had a cut to her lip, she seemed groggy and as the camera finally moves closer he notices the marks on her arms. They'd drugged her.

Leon's heart was thumping. What was he watching?

She groans, the only sound in the video. The large man produces a pair of scissors, he snaps them in front of her face and she shows no fear, meeting her tormentors gaze. "There's nothing else you can do to me, you might as well give up." She speaks quietly.

They say nothing.

He runs the tip of a scissor blade over her chest, over the material of her dress. She closes her eyes as he hikes the skirt up and turns the scissors. He snips at her panties, stripping her of them. She makes a small noise and he can hear it, he can hear her fear. He's never heard her afraid before. His hand covers his mouth. It was like watching a nightmare unfold, he felt sick to his stomach.

The monster cuts through the tape binding her ankles together and Leon clenches his eyes shut for a moment, then rises to his feet, turning away and tucking his hands in to his hair. He looks back with his fingers laced behind his head and forces himself to endure it with her. That animal mauls her and the fury he feels inside defies anything he's ever felt before.

When she finally breaks, letting out a tortured scream, he reaches out and slams the laptop shut. He can't. His breath came in quick pants and his eyes felt hot with tears that wanted to come, but he was too angry to cry. He snatches the tape player up from the table and hits play, his thumb turning up the volume.

"Leon Kennedy." The voice begins. Deep, male, British. "If you haven't watched it yet, I suggest you take a moment to view the other item in the box. Then come back to this message. If you have – she's still alive." There's a pause. "For now, at least. I'm going to need you to keep this between us, we have eyes everywhere. We'll know if you share this message or what I am about to tell you with anybody, and you won't suffer for it. She will."

He paces as he listens, he wanted to rip these motherfuckers to pieces. He'd kill every last one of them.

"Everybody has their breaking point, we've taken Miss Wong beyond hers. She gave us your name, though to her credit we had to drug her, disorient her and.. well, you saw the beginnings of it in that video. It was a long, rough night for poor Ada."

"I'll fucking kill you." Leon seethes, as though he could respond to a tape recording.

"We need you to return to England, Mr Kennedy. See you were involved in something you shouldn't have been. Miss Wong signed you up for something she shouldn't have and now both of your lives are potentially forfeit. I offer you both a way out, though. Do nothing, she will die in the slowest manner possible – and we'll send you pieces of her as a fond memory. Come to London, instructions will follow." There's a small pause and the voice adds, "do not test us, Mr Kennedy. You really should be more careful who you acquaint yourself with."

"I'm gonna stick this recorder up your ass you sack of shit." Leon growls at the cassette player, then moves quickly to his kitchen, grabbing a pen and a sticky note he scribbles down a number as it's reeled off in a digital voice, with instruction to call once he reaches London. The recording comes to an end and he sets the player down, his heart thundering, he stares at the information and the player, then looks toward the laptop that sat there – closed. Hiding details of her suffering.

This was about that lab they raided, he was sure of it. She said it was something to do with her Father. Why would her own Father have this done to her? What kind of sick, sadistic animal did you have to be?

Who was she?

He couldn't leave her to die like that. He just couldn't.

Just like that, he's booking a ticket to London and packing some things. He might not know exactly what he was up against, but neither did they.

* * *

Less than 24 hours later, Leon arrives at London's Gatwick airport as the sun is beginning to set. It was a beautiful city from the air. Bathed in gold, historic and old. But there was something haunting about it, and he'd seen a small slice of it's seedy underbelly the last time he was here. He had no doubt that there were some darker, nastier forces at play in this regal place. It seemed to be the way of every city.

He picks up his bag and heads out in to the street. It was warm outside despite the dying light, and he pulls the scrap of paper from his jacket pocket and glances around for a payphone. They were everywhere, but he chooses one the furthest away from prying ears. Inserting some change, he makes the call.

"Mr Kennedy."

"Yeah." He says tightly.

"So glad you could make it."

"Just tell me where I'm going."

There's a laugh on the other end of the line, and the voice tells him a specific bridge to wait by at a specific time on a named road, then hangs up.

He grits his teeth, replacing the receiver slowly and for a moment, just breathing. Centering himself. Rage was a wonderful fuel in battle, but to begin with he needed his cool. He needed his wits about him. He needed to beat these people at their own game. He was getting Ada out of there alive, and no deals were being made, whatever they even were.

He grabs a cab and asks the driver where in London this address was. He's shown on a map of the city, so Leon asks for a small, nondescript hotel at the opposite end of the city. The driver looks confused, but grants his request. He's taken to a travel lodge on the outskirts of north London. He checks himself in to a quiet room and dumps his bag down.

If they were smart, they'd pat him down. There were ways around that. All he needed was a knife. The concealment is easy and even on a thorough check, they'd never find it. Not unless they made him take his jacket and shirt off entirely. It would even pass a metal detection, and had done at the airport. Amazing what working for the Government could get you, there were some toys not available to the public that were very useful in situations like these.

As he paces the room, awaiting 11pm, his phone rings.

Hunnigan.

"Leon, sorry to interrupt you on your days off, but unfortunately – we need you to come in."

He grits his teeth. "You're going to have to get someone else on this one, Ingrid. I'm not in the country."

She looks confused, frowning. "You're not? You're not on vacation leave Leon."

"I know, but something came up. I have to be here."

"What kind of something?" She presses.

He sighs. "I can't talk about it, it's personal."

"Leon.." she warns.

"Ingrid, please. This one time, will you just.." he doesn't know what to say to her, she could get in trouble for covering for him. Risk both of their jobs.

She purses her lips and looks at him over the video chat. "You look awful. I'm going to assume this is a family emergency." She answers finally. She knew his only family was his Father, and that he was in Colorado.

"Thankyou."

"Let me know when you're back." She nods.

"I will."

They share one last, lingering look, and she signs off. He sighs heavily, pocketing the phone again, after switching it off. It was almost time.

At 11pm he calls a cab to the hotel and gives them the address of the rendezvous point. It's quite a drive, and they leave the city, heading in to darker, seedier areas. Where buildings sported broken windows and looked long since abandoned.

"Not exactly a tourist area," The cab driver warns him. "Are you sure this is where you want to be?"

"I'm sure." Leon says quietly, leaning forward to pay him.

"You want me to stick around?"

"No, I'm good. Thankyou though." He nods and the driver sighs reluctantly, feeling a little strange about dropping a foreigner off in a known bad area. But Leon exits the car and glances around himself. The street was lit only by a dim, yellowish glow off of the only working lamp. He spots the bridge, sticking his hands in his pockets as he walks toward it. The sound of the cabs engine fades away, leaving him in silence. Just the crunch of his feet on the slightly gravelly ground and the bark of a dog somewhere in the distance.

He reaches the bridge and leans against it's wall. Waiting.

"Punctuality. I like that." A voice drifts over to him and he lifts his head, setting his eyes on a man across the road from him, emerging from the shadowy cover of a shipping crate and the wall of the bridge. Before Leon can answer, a train thunders overhead, it's loud metallic clack fracturing the night. Leon doesn't take his eyes off of this other man as he crosses toward him. They couldn't possibly have sent just one guy?

For a moment he's wondering if these people were actually not as smart as they made out. But as the train's noise fades away, he's lit up by the headlights of a car. He lifts his hand to shield his eyes against the glaring light. Then there's a gun to his head. The pat down begins and he raises his hands. Allowing it, surrendering.

"Where's Ada." He asks as the other man comes face to face with him, inspecting his arms.

"You'll see her once the deals made."

"No. I see her before we even talk deals." He says flatly.

There's a slight chuckle. "That won't be happening."

"Then how do I know she's even alive?"

"You'll have to take our word for it."

"Then there's no deal."

"Mr Kennedy..." there's a heavy sigh. The other man seems satisfied he's not carrying anything and steps back. "Has anybody ever warned you about poking sleeping lions?"

"I've made a career of it." He warns.

The other man tenses his jaw and slowly nods. "You're in no position here, to make demands."

"Then just kill me. Get it over with. Cause you're getting nothing from me unless I know Ada's alright."

The sound of the car door opening attracts both their attentions, and they look toward it.

Some dark figure in a suit stands shrouded by the brilliant bright white light of the headlamps. "We will show you the girl. But there will be no other negotiations."

Leon moves his hands slightly, they were still raised. A gesture of agreement.

"Very well."

"Dumb men in love." His captor snorts to his side, jabbing the gun in to his ribs. "Move."

Leon glares at him, but does as instructed. Getting in to the car, assessing his situation. One man with a gun, another older man sitting to his side, probably also strapped. And a driver.

"Somebody want to tell me what all this is about?" He speaks up as they get on the road.

"You'll find out soon enough."

Leon nods. He just needed to see Ada. Once he knew she was okay – they were all dead.


End file.
